Riverside  Literature  Series 


THOREAU'S 
Katahdin  and 
Chesuncook 


Houghton  Mrfflin  Co. 


A    MAINE    WOODS    HIGHWAY 


HitoeraiDe  literature 


KATAHDIN 
AND  CHESUNCOOK 

BT 

HENRY  D.  THOREAU 

FBOM 

"THE  MAINE  WOODS" 

ABRIDGED  AND   EDITED  BY 

/ 

CLIFTON  JOHNSON 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

Boston  :  4  Park  Street ;   New  York  :  85  Fifth  A  vena* 
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COPYRIGHT    1909   BY    HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 
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ILLUSTRATIONS 

A  MAINE  WOODS  HIGHWAY      ....      Frontispiece 

A  BATEAU 2 

KATAHDIN  FROM  AMBEJIJIS  LAKE 20 

WINTER  LOGGING 26 

RIVER-DRIVERS  AT  WORK 26 

POLING  UP-STREAM        . 30 

RUNNING  DOWN-STREAM 30 

SUMMIT  OF  KATAHDIN 42 

A  LOGGERS'  CAMP 68 

A  Cow  MOOSE 68 

A  BACKWOODS  FARM 78 


2217810 


INTRODUCTION 

THOREAU'S  The  Maine  Woods  is  a  forest  classic  —  an  idyl 
of  the  wilderness.  It  is  a  record  of  three  journeys  to  the  bor- 
ders of  civilization  and  beyond  into  almost  pathless  forests, 
seldom  visited  at  that  time  except  by  loggers  and  a  few  hunt- 
ers and  Indians,  and  retaining  nearly  intact  their  primeval 
loneliness. 

Perhaps  no  writer  has  ever  lived  who  was  better  fitted  than 
Thoreau  to  enjoy  such  a  region  and  to  transmit  his  enjoy- 
ment of  it  to  others.  For  while  he  was  a  person  of  culture  and 
refinement,  with  a  college  education,  and  had  for  an  intimate 
friend  so  rare  a  man  as  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  he  was  half 
wild  in  many  of  his  tastes  and  impatient  of  the  restraints  and 
artificiality  of  the  ordinary  social  life  of  the  towns  and  cities. 
He  liked  especially  the  companionship  of  men  who  were  in 
close  contact  with  nature.  To  talk  with  some  rude  farmer 
or  fisherman  or  hunter  gave  him  real  delight.  Thus,  in  The 
Maine  Woods,  we  find  him  lingering  fondly  over  the  char- 
acteristics and  casual  remarks  of  the  loggers,  explorers,  and 
other  pioneers;  and  most  of  all  he  seems  to  have  been  fas- 
cinated by  the  Indians,  who  still  retained  many  of  their  abo- 
riginal instincts  and  ways. 

As  the  years  pass,  Thoreau's  literary  fame  steadily  in- 
creases. He  was  a  careful  and  accurate  observer,  more  at 
home  in  the  fields  and  woods  than  in  village  and  town,  and 
having  a  gift  of  piquant  originality  in  recording  his  impres- 
sions. The  play  of  his  imagination  is  keen  and  nimble ;  yet 
his  fancy  is  so  well  balanced  by  his  native  common  sense 
that  it  does  not  run  away  with  him,  and  his  genuineness  and 
the  truth  of  what  he  relates  have  never  been  questioned. 

It  is  to  be  noted  also  that  he  was  no  hunter,  that  his  in- 
quisitiveness  into  the  ways  of  the  wild  creatures  carried  with 
it  no  desire  to  shoot  them,  and  that  to  his  mind  the  killing  of 
game  for  mere  sport  was  akin  to  butchery.  Indeed,  the  kindly 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

and  sympathetic  spirit  constantly  manifest  in  his  pages  is  very 
attractive,  and  the  fellowship  one  gains  with  him  through  his 
written  words  is  to  a  young  reader  a  distinct  help  in  character- 
building. 

The  Maine  Woods  was,  of  course,  not  written  for  young 
people,  and  in  its  complete  form  it  contains  much  that  would 
have  but  little  interest  for  them ;  yet  the  charm  of  the  subject, 
and  the  fact  that  Thoreau  was  himself  in  most  ways  simple 
and  childlike  in  his  enjoyment  of  nature,  make  a  great  deal 
of  the  book  exceptionally  attractive  to  youthful  readers.  The 
text  as  here  presented  omits  the  portions  an  average  boy  or 
girl  would  find  difficult  or  dull,  and  the  resulting  narrative  is 
both  lively  and  informing.  It  covers  two  of  Thoreau's  three 
expeditions  into  the  woods  —  one  made  in  a  logger's  bateau 
with  two  experienced  frontiersmen  for  guides;  the  second  in 
a  birch-bark  canoe  under  the  guidance  of  its  Indian  owner. 
The  account  is  practically  complete,  for  in  cutting  down  the 
original  book  nothing  really  essential  has  been  sacrificed. 
The  omissions  consist  largely  of  meditations  which  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  main  story,  and  of  some  of  the  multiplicity 
of  details  that  Thoreau  recorded.  But  while  much  has  been 
eliminated,  the  text  is  still  Thoreau's  own,  and  is  in  no  wise 
rewritten.  Only  at  rare  intervals  has  a  minor  word  or  two 
been  supplied  to  make  connections  where  portions  have  been 
omitted. 

I  think  the  student  will  find  the  narrative  as  it  now  stands 
clear  and  delightful,  and  that  this  presentation  of  experiences 
on  the  streams  and  lakes  and  in  the  forests  of  the  primitive 
American  wilderness  will  be  perused  not  as  a  task,  but  as  a 
pleasure.  The  author  was  one  of  the  world's  master  writers 
in  his  chosen  field,  and  in  what  he  says  he  stimulates  a  love  not 
only  for  nature,  but  for  simple  ways  of  living,  and  for  all  that 
is  sincere  and  unaffected  in  human  life  wherever  found. 

CLIFTON  JOHNSON. 

HADLEY,  MASSACHUSETTS. 


MAP  OF 

THOREAU'S 

MAINE  WOODS 


Bancrc 


KATAHDIN  l 

ON  the  31st  of  August,  1846, 1  left  Concord  in  Mas- 
sachusetts for  Bangor  and  the  backwoods  of-  Maine, 
intending  to  accompany  a  relative  of  mine  engaged  in 
the  lumber  trade,  as  far  as  a  dam  on  the  West  Branch 
of  the  Penobscot.2  From  this  place,  which  is  about  one 
hundred  miles  by  the  river  above  Bangor  and  five 
miles  beyond  the  last  log  hut,  I  proposed  to  make  ex- 
cursions to  Mount  Katahdin,3  and  to  some  of  the  lakes 
of  the  Penobscot.  It  is  unusual  to  find  a  camp  so  far  in 
the  woods  at  that  season,  when  lumbering  operations 
have  ceased,  and  I  was  glad  to  avail  myself  of  the  cir- 
cumstance of  a  gang  of  men  being  employed  there  at 
that  time  in  repairing  the  injuries  caused  by  the  great 
freshet  in  the  spring.  I  was  fortunate  also  in  the  season 
of  the  year,  for  in  the  summer  myriads  of  black  flies, 
mosquitoes,  and  midges,  or,  as  the  Indians  call  them, 
"no-see-ems,"  make  traveling  in  the  woods  almost 
impossible;  but  now  their  reign  was  nearly  over. 

Tuesday,  September  1, 1  started  with  my  compan- 
ion in  a  buggy  from  Bangor  for  "up  river,"  expecting 
to  be  overtaken  the  next  day  night  at  Mattawamkeag 4 
Point,  some  sixty  miles  off,  by  two  more  Bangoreans, 
who  had  decided  to  join  us  in  a  trip  to  the  mountain. 

1  Thoreau  used  the  less  familiar  form  "  Ktaadn  "  for  the  name  of 
the  mountain  and  the  title  of  this  paper,  a  spelling  which  is  supposed 
to  represent  the  Indian  pronunciation  more  accurately  than  that  now 
more  commonly  in  use.  The  word  is  an  Indian  one,  of  course,  and,  as 
Thoreau  notes,  is  said  to  mean  "  highest  land." 

2  Pe-nob'skot.  3  Ka-tah'din.  4  Mat-a-wam'keg. 


2  KATAHDIN 

Within  a  dozen  miles  of  Bangor  we  passed  through 
the  village  of  Oldtown,  at  the  falls  of  the  Penobscot. 
These  falls  furnish  the  principal  power  by  which  the 
Maine  woods  are  converted  into  lumber.  Here  is  a 
close  jam  at  all  seasons ;  and  then  the  once  green  tree 
becomes  lumber.  Here  your  inch,  your  two  and  your 
three  inch  stuff  begin  to  be,  and  Mr.  Sawyer  marks  off 
those  spaces  which  decide  the  destiny  of  so  many  pros- 
trate forests.  Through  this  steel  riddle  is  the  arrowy 
Maine  forest  relentlessly  sifted,  till  it  comes  out  boards, 
clapboards,  laths,  and  shingles.  Think  how  stood 
the  white-pine  tree  on  the  shore  of  Chesuncook,1  its 
branches  soughing  with  the  four  winds,  and  every  in- 
dividual needle  trembling  in  the  sunlight  —  think  how 
it  stands  with  it  now  —  sold,  perchance,  to  the  New 
England  Friction-Match  Company!  There  were  in 
1837,  as  I  read,  two  hundred  and  fifty  sawmills  on  the 
Penobscot  and  its  tributaries  above  Bangor.  To  this 
is  to  be  added  the  lumber  of  the  Kennebec,  Androscog- 
gin,  Passamaquoddy,2  and  other  streams.  No  wonder 
that  we  hear  so  often  of  vessels  which  are  becalmed  off 
our  coast,  being  surrounded  a  week  at  a  time  by  float- 
ing lumber  from  the  Maine  woods.  The  mission  of 
men  there  seems  to  be,  like  so  many  busy  demons,  to 
drive  the  forest  all  out  of  the  country,  from  every  soli- 
tary beaver-swamp  and  mountain-side,  as  soon  as 
possible. 

At  Oldtown  we  walked  into  a  bateau-manufactory. 
The  making  of  bateaux  is  quite  a  business  here.  They 
are  light  and  shapely  vessels,  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet 
long,  and  only  four  or  four  and  a  half  wide,  sharp  at 

1  Chft-sun'kook. 

2  KSn-e-bgk',  An-drO-skog'in,  P&s-a-mi-kw5d'i. 


KATAHDIN  3 

both  ends,  and  reaching  seven  or  eight  feet  over  the 
water,  in  order  that  they  may  slip  over  rocks  as  gently 
as  possible.  They  are  made  very  slight;  only  two 
boards  to  a  side,  commonly  secured  to  a  few  light 
maple  or  other  hard-wood  knees.  The  bottom  is  left 
perfectly  flat.  They  told  us  that  one  wore  out  in  two 
years,  or  often  in  a  single  trip. 

The  ferry  here  took  us  past  the  Indian  island.  As 
we  left  the  shore,  I  observed  a  short,  shabby-looking 
Indian,  just  from  "up  river,"  land  on  the  Oldtown 
side,  and,  drawing  up  his  canoe,  take  out  a  bundle  of 
skins  in  one  hand,  and  an  empty  keg  in  the  other,  and 
scramble  up  the  bank  with  them.  The  island  seemed 
deserted  to-day,  yet  I  observed  some  new  houses 
among  the  weather-stained  ones ;  but  generally  they 
have  a  very  forlorn  and  cheerless  look,  being  all  back 
side  and  woodshed,  not  homesteads.  The  church  is 
the  only  trim-looking  building. 

We  landed  in  Milford,  and  rode  along  the  east  side 
of  the  Penobscot,  having  a  more  or  less  constant  view 
of  the  river,  and  the  Indian  islands  in  it,  for  they  re- 
tain all  the  islands  as  far  up  as  the  mouth  of  the  East 
Branch.  The  river  seemed  shallow  and  rocky,  and 
interrupted  by  rapids,  rippling  and  gleaming  in  the 
sun.  Everywhere  we  saw  signs  of  the  great  freshet  — 
this  house  standing  awry,  and  that  where  it  was  not 
founded,  and  that  other  with  a  waterlogged  look,  as 
if  it  were  still  airing  and  drying  its  basement,  and  logs 
with  everybody's  marks  upon  them,  and  sometimes  the 
marks  of  their  having  served  as  bridges,  strewn  along 
the  road.  At  sundown,  leaving  the  river  road  awhile, 
we  went  by  way  of  Enfield,  where  we  stopped  for  the 
night. 


4  KATAHDIN 

The  next  morning  we  drove  along  through  a  high 
and  hilly  country,  and  came  into  the  Houlton  *  road  at 
Lincoln.  Learning  that  there  were  several  wigwams 
here,  on  one  of  the  Indian  islands,  we  left  our  horse 
and  wagon  and  walked  through  the  forest  half  a  mile  to 
the  river,  to  procure  a  guide  to  the  mountain.  It  was 
not  till  after  considerable  search  that  we  discovered 
their  habitations  —  small  huts,  in  a  retired  place,  where 
the  scenery  was  unusually  soft  and  beautiful,  and  the 
shore  skirted  with  pleasant  meadows  and  graceful 
elms.  We  paddled  ourselves  across  to  the  island  in  a 
canoe  which  we  found  on  the  shore.  Near  where  we 
landed  sat  an  Indian  girl,  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  on 
a  rock,  washing,  and  humming  a  song  meanwhile.  A 
salmon-spear,  made  wholly  of  wood,  lay  on  the  shore, 
such  as  they  might  have  used  before  white  men  came. 
It  had  an  elastic  piece  of  wood  fastened  to  one  side  of 
its  point,  which  slipped  over  and  closed  upon  the  fish, 
somewhat  like  the  contrivance  for  holding  a  bucket  at 
the  end  of  a  well-pole.  As  we  walked  up  to  the  nearest 
house,  we  were  met  by  a  sally  of  a  dozen  wolfish-look- 
ing dogs.  The  occupant  soon  appeared,  with  a  long 
pole  in  his  hand,  with  which  he  beat  off  the  dogs 
while  he  parleyed  with  us  —  a  stalwart,  but  dull  and 
greasy-looking  fellow,  who  told  us  that  there  were  In- 
dians going  "  up  river  "  —  he  and  one  other.  And  who 
was  the  other  ?  Louis  Neptune,  who  lives  in  the  next 
house.  Well,  let  us  go  over  and  see  Louis  together. 
The  same  doggish  reception,  and  Louis  Neptune 
makes  his  appearance  —  a  small,  wiry  man,  with 
puckered  and  wrinkled  face.  The  same  questions  were 
put  to  Louis,  and  the  same  information  obtained, 

1  H&l't'n. 


KATAHDIN  5 

while  the  other  Indian  stood  by.  It  appeared  that  they 
were  going  to  start  by  noon,  with  two  canoes,  to  go 
up  to  Chesuncook  to  hunt  moose  —  to  be  gone  a 
month.  "  Well,  Louis,  suppose  you  get  to  the  Five 
Islands,  just  below  Mattawamkeag,  to  camp,  we  walk 
on  up  the  West  Branch  to-morrow  — four  of  us  —  and 
wait  for  you  at  the  dam,  or  this  side.  You  overtake  us 
to-morrow  or  next  day,  and  take  us  into  your  canoes. 
We  pay  you  for  your  trouble."  "Ye',"  replied  Louis; 
"maybe  you  carry  some  provision  for  all  —  some 
pork  —  some  bread  —  and  so  pay."  These  men  were 
slightly  clad  in  shirt  and  pantaloons.  They  did  not 
invite  us  into  their  houses,  but  met  us  outside.  We  left 
the  Indians,  thinking  ourselves  lucky  to  have  secured 
such  guides  and  companions. 

There  were  very  few  houses  along  the  road,  yet  they 
did  not  altogether  fail.  There  were  even  the  germs  of 
one  or  two  villages  just  beginning  to  expand.  The 
beauty  of  the  road  itself  was  remarkable.  The  vari- 
ous evergreens  —  delicate  and  beautiful  specimens  of 
the  larch,  arbor-vita?,  ball  spruce,  and  fir-balsam,  from 
a  few  inches  to  many  feet  in  height  —  lined  its  sides ; 
while  it  was  but  a  step  on  either  hand  to  the  grim,  un- 
trodden wilderness,  whose  tangled  labyrinth  of  living, 
fallen,  and  decaying  trees  only  the  deer  and  moose,  the 
bear  and  wolf,  can  easily  penetrate. 

About  noon  we  reached  the  Mattawamkeag,  and 
put  up  at  a  house  where  the  Houlton  stage  stops.  After 
dinner  we  strolled  down  to  the  "Point,"  formed  by  the 
junction  of  the  two  rivers,  which  is  said  to  be  the  scene 
of  an  ancient  battle  between  the  Eastern  Indians  and 
the  Mohawks,  and  searched  there  carefully  for  relics, 
but  we  found  only  some  flakes  of  arrowhead  stone, 


6  KATAHDIN 

some  points  of  arrowheads,  one  small  leaden  bullet,  and 
some  colored  beads,  the  last  to  be  referred,  perhaps, 
to  early  fur-trader  days.  The  Mattawamkeag,  though 
wide,  was  a  mere  river's  bed,  full  of  rocks  and  shallows 
at  this  time,  so  that  you  could  cross  it  almost  dry-shod 
in  boots. 

Before  our  companions  arrived,  we  rode  on  up  the 
Houlton  road  seven  miles  to  Molunkus,1  where  the 
Aroostook 2  road  comes  into  it,  and  where  there  is  a 
spacious  public  house  in  the  woods.  There  was  no 
other  evidence  of  man  but  this  huge  shingle  palace  in 
this  part  of  the  world;  but  sometimes  even  this  is  filled 
with  travelers.  I  looked  off  the  piazza  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  house  up  the  Aroostook  road,  on  which  there 
was  no  clearing  in  sight.  There  was  a  man  just  adven- 
turing upon  it  this  evening  in  a  rude,  original  wagon 
—  a  mere  seat  with  a  wagon  swung  under  it.  Here, 
too,  was  a  small  trader  who  kept  a  store  in  a  box  over 
the  way,  behind  the  Molunkus  sign-post.  I  saw  him 
standing  in  his  shop  door.  His  shop  was  so  small,  that, 
if  a  traveler  should  make  demonstrations  of  entering, 
he  would  have  to  go  out  by  the  back  way  and  confer 
with  his  customer  through  a  window  about  his  goods. 

I  think  that  there  was  not  more  than  one  house  on 
the  road  to  Molunkus.  At  that  place  we  got  over  the 
fence  into  a  new  field,  planted  with  potatoes,  where 
the  logs  were  still  burning  between  the  hills;  and,  pull- 
ing up  the  vines,  found  good-sized  potatoes,  nearly 
ripe.  The  mode  of  clearing  and  planting  is,  to  fell  the 
trees,  and  burn  once  what  will  burn,  then  cut  them  up 
into  suitable  lengths,  roll  into  heaps,  and  burn  again ; 
then,  with  a  hoe,  plant  potatoes  where  you  can  come  at 

1  Mi-lunk'us.  2  A-robs'took. 


KATAHDIN  7 

the  ground  between  the  stumps  and  charred  logs.  For 
a  first  crop  the  ashes  suffice  for  manure,  and  no  hoeing 
is  necessary  the  first  year.  In  the  fall  cut,  roll,  and  burn 
again,  and  so  on,  till  the  land  is  cleared ;  and  soon  it  is 
ready  for  grain.  Let  those  talk  of  poverty  and  hard 
times  who  will  in  the  towns  and  cities;  cannot  the 
emigrant  who  can  pay  his  fare  to  New  York  or  Boston 
pay  five  dollars  more  to  get  here,  and  be  as  rich  as 
he  pleases,  where  land  virtually  costs  nothing,  and 
houses  only  the  labor  of  building,  and  he  may  begin 
life  as  Adam  did  ? 

We  returned  to  the  Mattawamkeag,  where  shortly 
afterward  our  companions  arrived. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  had  mounted  our  packs, 
and  prepared  for  a  tramp  up  the  West  Branch,  my 
companion  having  turned  his  horse  out  to  pasture, 
thinking  that  a  bite  of  fresh  grass  and  a  taste  of  run- 
ning water  would  do  him  as  much  good  as  backwoods 
fare  and  new  country  influences  his  master.  Leaping 
over  a  fence,  we  began  to  follow  an  obscure  trail  up  the 
northern  bank  of  the  Penobscot.  There  was  now  no 
road  further,  the  river  being  the  only  highway,  and 
but  half  a  dozen  log  huts  to  be  met  with  for  thirty 
miles.  On  either  hand,  and  beyond,  was  a  wholly  un- 
inhabited wilderness,  stretching  to  Canada.  Neither 
horse  nor  cow,  nor  vehicle  of  any  kind,  had  ever  passed 
over  this  ground ;  the  cattle,  and  the  few  bulky  articles 
which  the  loggers  use,  being  got  up  in  the  winter  on  the 
ice,  and  down  again  before  it  breaks  up.  The  evergreen 
woods  had  a  decidedly  sweet  and  bracing  fragrance; 
the  air  was  a  sort  of  diet-drink,  and  we  walked  on 
buoyantly  in  Indian  file,  stretching  our  legs.  Occa- 
sionally there  was  a  small  opening  on  the  bank,  made 


8  KATAHDIN 

for  the  purpose  of  log-rolling,  where  we  got  a  sight  of 
the  river  —  always  a  rocky  and  rippling  stream.  The 
roar  of  the  rapids,  the  note  of  a  whistler  duck  on  the 
river,  of  the  jay  and  chickadee  around  us,  and  of  the 
pigeon  woodpecker  in  the  openings,  were  the  sounds 
that  we  heard.  This  was  what  you  might  call  a  brand- 
new  country ;  the  only  roads  were  of  Nature's  making, 
and  the  few  houses  were  camps. 

There  are  three  classes  of  inhabitants  who  either 
frequent  or  inhabit  the  country  which  we  had  now  en- 
tered :  first,  the  loggers,  who  for  the  winter  and  spring 
are  far  the  most  numerous,  but  in  the  summer,  except 
a  few  explorers  for  timber,  completely  desert  it;  sec- 
ond, the  few  settlers  I  have  named,  the  only  perma- 
nent inhabitants,  who  live  on  the  verge  of  it,  and 
help  raise  supplies  for  the  former;  third,  the  hunters, 
mostly  Indians,  who  range  over  it  in  their  season. 

We  crossed  one  tract,  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  of  more 
than  a  hundred  acres  of  heavy  timber,  which  had  just 
been  felled  and  burnt  over,  and  was  still  smoking.  Our 
trail  lay  through  the  midst  of  it,  and  was  well-nigh 
blotted  out.  The  trees  lay  at  full  length,  four  or  five 
feet  deep,  and  crossing  each  other  in  all  directions, 
black  as  charcoal,  but  perfectly  sound  within,  still 
good  for  fuel  or  for  timber.  Soon  they  would  be  cut 
into  lengths  and  burnt  again.  Here  were  thousands 
of  cords,  enough  to  keep  the  poor  of  Boston  and  New 
York  amply  warm  for  a  winter,  which  only  cumbered 
the  ground  and  were  in  the  settler's  way.  And  the 
whole  of  that  solid  and  interminable  forest  is  doomed 
to  be  gradually  devoured  thus  by  fire  and  no  man  be 
warmed  by  it.  At  Crocker's  log  hut,  at  the  mouth  of 
Salmon  River,  seven  miles  from  the  Point,  one  of  the 


KATAHDIN  9 

party  commenced  distributing  a  store  of  small  cent 
picture-books  among  the  children  to  teach  them  to 
read,  and  also  newspapers,  more  or  less  recent,  among 
the  parents,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  accept- 
able to  a  backwoods  people.  I  walked  through  Salmon 
River  with  my  shoes  on,  it  being  low  water,  but  not 
without  wetting  my  feet.  A  few  miles  farther  we  came 
to  '  Mann  Howard's,"  at  the  end  of  an  extensive  clear- 
ing, where  there  were  two  or  three  log  huts  in  sight  at 
once. 

The  next  house  was  Fisk's,  ten  miles  from  the  Point 
at  the  mouth  of  the  East  Branch.  Our  course  here 
crossed  the  Penobscot.  One  of  the  party,  who  entered 
the  house  in  search  of  some  one  to  set  us  over,  reported 
a  very  neat  dwelling,  with  plenty  of  books,  and  a  new 
wife,  just  imported  from  Boston.  Having  with  some 
difficulty  discovered  the  trail  again,  we  kept  up  the 
south  side  of  the  West  Branch,  or  main  river,  passing 
by  some  rapids,  the  roar  of  which  we  heard  through 
the  woods,  and,  shortly  after,  some  empty  loggers' 
camps.  Though  we  saw  a  few  more  afterward,  I  will 
make  one  account  serve  for  all.  These  were  such 
houses  as  the  lumberers  of  Maine  spend  the  winter  in. 
There  were  the  camps  and  the  hovels  for  the  cattle, 
hardly  distinguishable,  except  that  the  latter  had 
no  chimney.  These  camps  were  about  twenty  feet 
long  by  fifteen  wide,  built  of  logs,  —  hemlock,  cedar, 
spruce,  or  yellow  birch  —  one  kind  alone,  or  all  to- 
gether, with  the  bark  on;  two  or  three  large  ones 
first,  one  directly  above  another,  and  notched  together 
at  the  ends,  to  the  height  of  three  or  four  feet,  then  of 
smaller  logs  resting  upon  transverse  ones  at  the  ends, 
each  of  the  last  successively  shorter  than  the  other,  to 


10  KATAHDIN 

form  the  roof.  The  chimney  was  an  oblong  hole  in  the 
middle,  three  or  four  feet  in  diameter,  with  a  fence  of 
logs  as  high  as  the  ridge.  The  interstices  were  filled 
with  moss,  and  the  roof  was  shingled  with  long  splints 
of  cedar,  or  spruce,  or  pine,  rifted  with  a  sledge  and 
cleaver.  The  fireplace  was  in  shape  like  the  chimney, 
and  directly  under  it,  defined  by  a  log  fender  on  the 
ground  and  aheap  of  ashes,  with  solid  benches  of  split 
logs  running  round  it.  Here  the  fire  usually  melts  the 
snow  and  dries  the  rain  before  it  can  descend  to  quench 
it.  The  faded  beds  of  arbor-vitse  leaves  extended  under 
the  eaves  on  either  hand.  There  was  the  place  for  the 
water-pail,  pork-barrel,  and  wash-basin,  and  generally 
a  dingy  pack  of  cards  left  on  a  log.  These  houses  are 
made  comfortable  by  huge  fires.  Usually  the  scenery 
about  them  is  drear  and  savage ;  and  the  logger's  camp 
is  as  completely  in  the  woods  as  a  fungus  at  the  foot  of 
a  pine  in  a  swamp ;  no  outlook  but  to  the  sky  overhead ; 
no  more  clearing  than  is  made  by  cutting  down  the 
trees  of  which  it  is  built,  and  those  which  are  necessary 
for  fuel.  If  only  it  be  well  sheltered  and  convenient 
to  his  work,  and  near  a  spring,  he  wastes  no  thought 
on  the  prospect.  They  are  very  proper  forest  houses, 
the  stems  of  the  trees  collected  together  and  piled  up 
around  a  man  to  keep  out  wind  and  rain  —  made  of 
living  green  logs,  hanging  with  moss  and  lichen,  and 
with  the  curls  and  fringes  of  the  yellow  birch  bark, 
and  dripping  with  resin,  fresh  and  moist,  and  redolent 
of  swampy  odors,  with  that  sort  of  vigor  and  peren- 
nialness  about  them  that  toadstools  suggest.  The 
logger's  fare  consists  of  tea,  molasses,  flour,  pork 
(sometimes  beef),  and  beans,  A  great  proportion  of 
the  beans  raised  in  Massachusetts  find  their  market 


KATAHDIN  11 

here.  On  expeditions  it  is  only  hard-bread  and  pork, 
often  raw,  slice  on  slice,  with  tea  or  water,  as  the  case 
may  be. 

The  primitive  wood  is  always  and  everywhere  damp 
and  mossy,  so  that  I  traveled  constantly  with  the  im- 
pression that  I  was  in  a  swamp ;  and  only  when  it  was 
remarked  that  this  or  that  tract,  judging  from  the  qual- 
ity of  the  timber  on  it,  would  make  a  profitable  clear- 
ing, was  I  reminded,  that  if  the  sun  were  let  in  it  would 
make  a  dry  field.  The  woods  hereabouts  abounded  in 
beech  and  yellow  birch,  spruce,  cedar,  fir,  and  hem- 
lock ;  but  we  saw  only  the  stumps  of  the  white  pine, 
some  of  them  of  great  size,  these  having  been  already 
culled  out.  Only  a  little  spruce  and  hemlock  had  been 
logged.  The  Eastern  wood  which  is  sold  for  fuel  in 
Massachusetts  all  comes  from  below  Bangor.  It  was 
the  pine  alone  that  had  tempted  any  but  the  hunter 
to  precede  us  on  this  route. 

Eighteen  miles  from  the  Point  brought  us  in  sight  of 
McCauslin's,  or  "  Uncle  George's,"  as  he  was  famil- 
iarly called  by  my  companions,  to  whom  he  was  well 
known,  where  we  intended  to  break  our  long  fast.  His 
house  was  in  the  midst  of  an  extensive  clearing  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Penobscot.  So  we  collected  on  a 
point  of  the  shore,  that  we  might  be  seen,  and  fired  our 
gun  as  a  signal,  which  brought  out  his  dogs  forthwith, 
and  thereafter  their  master,  who  in  due  time  took  us 
across  in  his  bateau.  This  clearing  was  bounded  ab- 
ruptly, on  all  sides  but  the  river,  by  the  naked  stems  of 
the  forest,  as  if  you  were  to  cut  only  a  few  feet  square 
in  the  midst  of  a  thousand  acres  of  mowing,  and  set 
down  a  thimble  therein.  He  had  a  whole  heaven  and 
horizon  to  himself,  and  the  sun  seemed  to  be  journey- 


12  KATAHDIN 

ing  over  his  clearing  only  the  livelong  day.  Here  we 
concluded  to  wait  for  the  Indians. 

McCauslin  had  been  a  waterman  twenty-two  years, 
and  had  driven  on  the  lakes  and  headwaters  of  the 
Penobscot  five  or  six  springs  in  succession,  but  was 
now  settled  here  to  raise  supplies  for  the  lumberers 
and  for  himself.  He  entertained  us  a  day  or  two  with 
true  Scotch  hospitality,  and  would  accept  no  recom- 
pense for  it, —  a  man  of  a  dry  wit  and  shrewdness,  and 
a  general  intelligence  which  I  had  not  looked  for  in 
the  backwoods.  In  fact,  the  deeper  you  penetrate  into 
the  woods,  the  more  intelligent,  and,  in  one  sense, 
less  countrified  do  you  find  the  inhabitants ;  for  always 
the  pioneer  has  been  a  traveler,  and,  to  some  extent, 
a  man  of  the  world ;  and,  as  the  distances  with  which 
he  is  familiar  are  greater,  so  is  his  information  more 
general  and  far  reaching  than  the  villager's.  If  I  were 
to  look  for  a  narrow,  uninformed,  and  countrified 
mind,  as  opposed  to  the  intelligence  and  refinement 
which  are  thought  to  emanate  from  cities,  it  would  be 
among  the  rusty  inhabitants  of  an  old-settled  country, 
on  farms  all  run  out  and  gone  to  seed  with  life-ever- 
lasting, in  the  towns  about  Boston,  and  not  in  the 
backwoods  of  Maine. 

Supper  was  got  before  our  eyes  in  the  ample  kitchen, 
by  a  fire  which  would  have  roasted  an  ox.  Many 
whole  logs,  four  feet  long,  were  consumed  to  boil  our 
tea-kettle  —  birch,  or  beech,  or'maple;  and  the  dishes 
were  soon  smoking  on  the  table,  late  the  armchair, 
against  the  wall,  from  which  one  of  the  party  was 
expelled.  The  arms  of  the  chair  formed  the  frame  on 
which  the  table  rested;  and  when  the  round  top  was 
turned  up  against  the  wall,  it  formed  the  back  of  the 


KATAHDIN  ,  13 

chair  and  was  no  more  in  the  way  than  the  wall  itself. 
This,  we  noticed,  was  the  prevailing  fashion  in  these 
log  houses,  in  order  to  economize  in  room.  There 
were  piping-hot  wheaten  cakes,  the  flour  having  been 
brought  up  the  river  in  bateaux,  and  ham,  eggs,  and 
potatoes,  and  milk  and  cheese,  the  produce  of  the 
farm;  and  also  shad  and  salmon,  tea  sweetened  with 
molasses,  and  sweet  cakes,  in  contradistinction  to  the 
hot  cakes  not  sweetened,  the  one  white,  the  other 
yellow,  to  wind  up  with.  Such  we  found  was  the 
prevailing  fare,  along  this  river.  Mountain  cranber- 
ries, stewed  and  sweetened,  were  the  common  dessert. 
Everything  here  was  in  profusion,  and  the  best  of  its 
kind.  Butter  was  in  such  plenty  that  it  was  commonly 
used,  before  it  was  salted,  to  grease  boots  with. 

In  the  night  we  were  entertained  by  the  sound  of 
raindrops  on  the  cedar  splints  which  covered  the  roof, 
and  awaked  the  next  morning  with  a  drop  or  two  in 
our  eyes.  It  rained  and  drizzled  and  gleamed  by 
turns,  the  livelong  day.  What  we  did  there  would  per- 
haps be  idle  to  tell ;  how  many  times  we  buttered  our 
boots,  and  how  often  a  drowsy  one  was  seen  to  sidle 
off  to  the  bedroom.  When  it  held  up,  I  strolled  up 
and  down  the  bank,  and  gathered  the  harebell  and 
cedar  berries ;  or  else  we  tried  by  turns  the  long-han- 
dled axe  on  the  logs  before  the  door.  One  while  we 
walked  over  the  farm  and  visited  his  well-filled  barns 
with  McCauslin.  There  were  one  other  man  and  two 
women  only  here.  He  kept  horses,  cows,  oxen,  and 
sheep.  The  potato-rot  had  found  him  out  the  previous 
year  and  got  half  or  two  thirds  of  his  crop.  Oats, 
grass,  and  potatoes  were  his  staples;  but  he  raised, 
also,  a  few  carrots  and  turnips,  and  "  a  little  corn  for 


14  KATAHDIN 

the  hens,"  for  this  was  all  that  he  dared  risk,  for  fear 
that  it  would  not  ripen.  Melons,  squashes,  sweet  corn, 
beans,  tomatoes,  and  many  other  vegetables  could 
not  be  ripened  there. 

The  few  settlers  along  this  stream  were  obviously 
tempted  by  the  cheapness  of  the  land  mainly.  When 
I  asked  McCauslin  why  more  settlers  did  not  come  in, 
he  answered  that  one  reason  was  they  could  not  buy 
the  land,  it  belonged  to  individuals  or  companies  who 
were  afraid  that  their  wild  lands  would  be  settled, 
and  so  incorporated  into  towns,  and  they  be  taxed 
for  them ;  but  to  settling  on  the  State's  land  there  was 
no  such  hindrance.  For  his  own  part,  he  wanted  no 
neighbors  —  he  did  n't  wish  to  see  any  road  by  his 
house.  Neighbors,  even  the  best,  were  a  trouble  and 
expense,  especially  on  the  score  of  cattle  and  fences. 
They  might  live  across  the  river,  perhaps,  but  not  on 
the  same  side. 

The  chickens  here  were  protected  by  the  dogs.  As 
McCauslin  said,  "  The  old  one  took  it  up  first,  and  she 
taught  the  pup,  and  now  they  had  got  it  into  their 
heads  that  it  would  n't  do  to  have  anything  of  the  bird 
kind  on  the  premises."  A  hawk  hovering  over  was  not 
allowed  to  alight,  but  barked  off  by  the  dogs  circling 
about  underneath;  and  a  pigeon,  or  a  "yellow-ham- 
mer," as  they  called  the  pigeon  woodpecker,  on  a  dead 
limb  or  stump,  was  instantly  expelled.  It  was  the 
main  business  of  their  day,  and  kept  them  constantly 
coming  and  going.  One  would  rush  out  of  the  house 
on  the  least  alarm  given  by  the  other. 

The  house,  which  was  a  fair  specimen  of  those  on 
this  river,  was  built  of  huge  logs,  which  peeped  out 
everywhere,  and  were  chinked  with  clay  and  moss. 


KATAHDIN  15 

It  contained  four  or  five  rooms.  There  were  no  sawed 
boards,  or  shingles,  or  clapboards  about  it ;  and  scarcely 
any  tool  but  the  axe  had  been  used  in  its  construction. 
The  partitions  were  made  of  long  clapboard-like 
splints,  of  spruce  or  cedar,  turned  to  a  delicate  salmon- 
color  by  the  smoke.  The  roof  and  sides  were  covered 
with  the  same,  instead  of  shingles  and  clapboards,  and 
some  of  a  much  thicker  and  larger  size  were  used  for 
the  floor.  These  were  all  so  straight  and  smooth  that 
they  answered  the  purpose  admirably,  and  a  careless 
observer  would  not  have  suspected  that  they  were  not 
sawed  and  planed.  The  chimney  and  hearth  were  of 
vast  size,  and  made  of  stone.  The  broom  was  a  few 
twigs  of  arbor-vitse  tied  to  a  stick ;  and  a  pole  was 
suspended  over  the  hearth,  close  to  the  ceiling,  to  dry 
stockings  and  clothes  on.  I  noticed  that  the  floor  was 
full  of  small,  dingy  holes,  as  if  made  with  a  gimlet, 
but  which  were,  in  fact,  made  by  the  spikes,  nearly 
an  inch  long,  which  the  lumberers  wear  in  their  boots 
to  prevent  their  slipping  on  wet  logs.  Just  above  Mc- 
Causlin's,  there  is  a  rocky  rapid,  where  logs  jam  in 
the  spring;  and  many  "drivers"  are  there  collected, 
who  frequent  his  house  for  supplies.  These  were  their 
tracks  which  I  saw. 

The  next  morning,  the  weather  proving  fair  enough 
for  our  purpose,  we  prepared  to  start,  and,  the  Indians 
having  failed  us,  persuaded  McCauslin  to  accompany 
us  in  their  stead,  intending  to  engage  one  other  boat- 
man on  the  way.  A  strip  of  cotton  cloth  for  a  tent,  a 
couple  of  blankets,  which  would  suffice  for  the  whole 
party,  fifteen  pounds  of  hard  bread,  ten  pounds  of 
pork,  and  a  little  tea,  made  up  "  Uncle  George's  "  pack. 
The  last  three  articles  were  calculated  to  be  provision 


16  KATAHDIN 

enough  for  six  men  for  a  week,  with  what  we  might 
pick  up.  A  tea-kettle,  a  frying-pan,  and  an  axe,  to  be 
obtained  at  the  last  house,  would  complete  our  outfit. 

We  were  soon  out  of  McCauslin's  clearing  and  in  the 
evergreen  woods  again.  The  obscure  trail  made  by  the 
two  settlers  above,  which  even  the  woodman  is  some- 
times puzzled  to  discern,  ere  long  crossed  a  narrow 
open  strip  in  the  woods  overrun  with  weeds,  where  a 
fire  had  raged  formerly.  At  the  end  of  three  miles  we 
reached  Shad  Pond.  Thomas  Fowler's  house  is  four 
miles  from  McCauslin's,  on  the  shore  of  the  pond,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Millinocket *  River.  Fowler  was  just 
completing  a  new  log  hut,  and  was  sawing  out  a  win- 
dow through  the  logs  when  we  arrived.  He  had  begun 
to  paper  his  house  with  spruce  bark  turned  inside  out. 
As  we  stood  on  the  pile  of  chips  by  the  door,  fish  hawks 
were  sailing  overhead.  Tom  pointed  away  over  the 
lake  to  a  bald  eagle's  nest,  which  was  plainly  visible 
more  than  a  mile  off,  on  a  pine,  high  above  the  sur- 
rounding forest,  and  was  frequented  from  year  to 
year  by  the  same  pair.  There  were  these  two  houses 
only  there,  his  low  hut  and  the  eagle's  airy  cartload 
of  fagots. 

Thomas  Fowler  was  persuaded  to  join  us,  for  two 
men  were  necessary  to  manage  the  bateau,  which  was 
to  be  our  carriage.  Tom's  pack  was  soon  made,  for 
he  had  not  far  to  look  for  his  waterman's  boots  and 
a  red  flannel  shirt.  Red  is  the  favorite  color  with  lum- 
bermen ;  and  red  flannel  is  reputed  to  possess  some 
mysterious  virtues,  to  be  most  healthful  and  convenient 
in  respect  to  perspiration.  In  every  gang  there  will  be 
a  large  proportion  of  red  birds.  We  took  here  a  poor 

i  AKM-nok'gt. 


KATAHDIN  17 

and  leaky  bateau,  and  began  to  pole  up  the  Millinocket 
two  miles  to  the  elder  Fowler's,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  Grand  Falls  of  the  Penobscot,  intending  to  ex- 
change our  bateau  there  for  a  better.  The  Millinocket 
is  a  small,  shallow,  and  sandy  stream,  full  of  what  I 
took  to  be  lamprey  eels'  or  suckers'  nests,  and  lined 
with  musquash l  cabins,  but  free  from  rapids,  accord- 
ing to  Fowler,  excepting  at  its  outlet  from  the  lake.  He 
was  at  this  time  engaged  in  cutting  the  native  grass  — 
rush-grass  and  meadow-clover,  as  he  called  it  —  on 
the  meadows  and  small,  low  islands  of  this  stream.  We 
noticed  flattened  places  in  the  grass  on  either  side, 
where,  he  said,  a  moose  had  laid  down  the  night  before. 
Old  Fowler's  is  the  last  house.  Here  our  new  bateau 
was  to  be  carried  over  the  first  portage  of  two  miles 
round  the  Grand  Falls,  on  a  horse-sled  made  of  sap- 
lings to  jump  the  numerous  rocks  in  the  way ;  but  we 
had  to  wait  a  couple  of  hours  for  them  to  catch  the 
horses,  which  were  pastured  at  a  distance  amid  the 
stumps,  and  had  wandered  still  farther  off.  The  last 
of  the  salmon  for  this  season  had  just  been  caught,  and 
were  still  fresh  in  pickle,  from  which  enough  was  ex- 
tracted to  fill  our  empty  kettle.  The  week  before,  they 
had  lost  nine  sheep  here  by  the  wolves.  The  surviving 
sheep  came  round  the  house,  and  seemed  frightened, 
which  induced  them  to  go  and  look  for  the  rest,  when 
they  found  seven  dead  and  two  still  alive.  These  last 
they  carried  to  the  house,  and,  as  Mrs.  Fowler  said, 
they  were  merely  scratched  in  the  throat  and  had  no 
more  visible  wound  than  would  be  produced  by  the 
prick  of  a  pin.  She  sheared  off  the  wool  from  their 
throats,  and  washed  them,  and  put  on  some  salve,  and 

1  The  Indian  name  for  the  muskrat. 


18  KATAHDIN 

turned  them  out,  but  in  a  few  moments  they  were  miss- 
ing and  had  not  been  found  since.  In  fact,  they  were 
all  poisoned,  and  those  that  were  found  swelled  up  at 
once,  so  that  they  saved  neither  skin  nor  wool. 

At  length,  after  we  had  dined,  the  horses  arrived, 
and  we  hauled  our  bateau  out  of  the  water  and  lashed 
it  to  its  wicker  carriage,  and,  throwing  in  our  packs, 
walked  on  before,  leaving  the  boatmen  and  driver, 
who  was  Tom's  brother,  to  manage  the  concern.  The 
route,  which  led  through  the  wild  pasture  where  the 
sheep  were  killed,  was  in  some  places  the  roughest 
ever  traveled  by  horses,  over  rocky  hills  where  the 
sled  bounced  and  slid  along  like  a  vessel  pitching  in 
a  storm ;  and  one  man  was  necessary  to  stand  at  the 
stern,  to  prevent  the  boat  from  being  wrecked.  When 
the  runners  struck  a  rock  three  or  four  feet  high,  the 
sled  bounced  back  and  upwards  at  the  same  time ;  but, 
as  the  horses  never  ceased  pulling,  it  came  down  on 
the  top  of  the  rock,  and  so  we  got  over.  This  portage 
probably  followed  the  trail  of  an  ancient  Indian  carry 
round  these  falls.  By  two  o'clock  we,  who  had  walked 
on  before,  reached  the  river  above  the  falls,  and  waited 
for  the  bateau.  We  had  been  here  but  a  short  time  when 
a  thunder-shower  was  seen  coming  up  from  the  west, 
and  soon  the  heavy  drops  began  to  patter  on  the  leaves 
around  us.  I  had  just  selected  the  prostrate  trunk  of  a 
huge  pine,  five  or  six  feet  in  diameter,  and  was  crawling 
under  it,  when,  luckily,  the  boat  arrived.  It  would 
have  amused  a  sheltered  man  to  witness  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  unlashed  and  whirled  over,  while  the 
first  waterspout  burst  on  us.  It  was  no  sooner  adjusted 
than  we  might  have  been  seen  all  stooping  to  its  shelter 
and  wriggling  under  like  so  many  eels.  When  all  were 


KATAHDIN  19 

under  we  propped  up  the  lee  side,  and  busied  ourselves 
whittling  thole-pins  for  rowing;  and  made  the  woods 
ring,  between  the  claps  of  thunder,  with  such  boat- 
songs  as  we  could  remember.  The  horses  stood  sleek 
and  shining  with  the  rain,  drooping  and  crestfallen, 
while  deluge  after  deluge  washed  over  us ;  but  the  bot- 
tom of  a  boat  may  be  relied  on  for  a  tight  roof.  After 
two  hours'  delay,  a  streak  of  fair  weather  appeared 
in  the  northwest,  promising  a  serene  evening  for  our 
voyage ;  and  the  driver  returned  with  his  horses,  while 
we  made  haste  to  launch  our  boat,  and  commence  our 
voyage  in  good  earnest. 

There  were  six  of  us,  including  the  two  boatmen. 
With  our  packs  heaped  up  near  the  bows,  and  ourselves 
disposed  as  baggage  to  trim  the  boat,  with  instructions 
not  to  move  in  case  we  should  strike  a  rock,  we  pushed 
out  into  the  first  rapid.  With  Uncle  George  in  the  stern 
and  Tom  in  the  bow,  each  using  a  spruce  pole  about 
twelve  feet  long,  pointed  with  iron,  and  poling  on  the 
same  side,  we  shot  up  the  rapids,  the  water  rushing 
and  roaring  around,  so  that  only  a  practiced  eye  could 
distinguish  a  safe  course,  or  tell  what  was  deep  water 
and  what  rocks,  frequently  grazing  the  latter,  with 
a  hundred  narrow  escapes.  I,  who  had  had  some 
experience  in  boating,  had  never  experienced  any 
half  so  exhilarating  before.  We  were  lucky  to  have 
exchanged  our  Indians  for  these  men,  who,  together 
with  Tom's  brother,  were  reputed  the  best  boatmen 
on  the  river,  and  were  at  once  indispensable  pilots 
and  pleasant  companions.  The  canoe  is  smaller,  more 
easily  upset,  and  sooner  worn  out ;  and  the  Indian  is 
said  not  to  be  so  skillful  in  the  management  of  the 
bateau.  He  is,  for  the  most  part,  less  to  be  relied  on, 


20  KATAHDIN 

and  more  disposed  to  sulks  and  whims.  The  utmost 
familiarity  with  dead  streams,  or  with  the  ocean,  would 
not  prepare  a  man  for  this  peculiar  navigation;  and 
the  most  skillful  boatman  anywhere  else  would  here 
be  obliged  to  take  out  his  boat  and  carry  round  a  hun- 
dred times,  still  with  great  risk,  as  well  as  delay,  where 
the  practiced  bateau-man  poles  up  with  comparative 
ease  and  safety.  The  hardy  "  voyageur"  pushes  with 
incredible  perseverance  and  success  quite  up  to  the  foot 
of  the  falls,  and  then  only  carries  round  some  perpen- 
dicular ledge,  and  launches  again  to  struggle  with  the 
boiling  rapids  above.  The  Indians  say  that  the  river 
once  ran  both  ways,  one  half  up  and  the  other  down, 
but  that,  since  the  white  man  came,  it  all  runs  down, 
and  now  they  must  laboriously  pole  their  canoes 
against  the  stream,  and  carry  them  over  numerous 
portages.  In  the  summer,  all  stores  —  the  grindstone 
and  the  plow  of  the  pioneer,  flour,  pork,  and  uten- 
sils for  the  explorer  —  must  be  conveyed  up  the  river 
in  bateaux;  and  many  a  cargo  and  many  a  boatman 
is  lost  in  these  waters.  In  the  winter,  however,  which  is 
very  equable  and  long,  the  ice  is  the  great  highway, 
and  the  logger's  team  penetrates  even  two  hundred 
miles  above  Bangor.  Imagine  the  solitary  sled-track 
running  far  up  into  the  snowy  and  evergreen  wilder- 
ness, hemmed  in  closely  for  a  hundred  miles  by  the 
forest,  and  again  stretching  straight  across  the  broad 
surfaces  of  concealed  lakes ! 

We  were  soon  in  the  smooth  water  of  the  Qua- 
kish1  Lake,  and  took  our  turns  at  rowing  and  paddling 
across.  It  is  a  small,  irregular,  but  handsome  lake, 
shut  in  on  all  sides  by  the  forest,  and  showing  no  traces 

1  Kwa'kish. 


KATAHDIN  21 

of  man  but  some  low  boom  in  a  distant  cove,  reserved 
for  spring  use.  The  spruce  and  cedar  on  its  shores, 
hung  with  gray  lichens,  looked  at  a  distance  like  the 
ghosts  of  trees.  Ducks  were  sailing  here  and  there  on 
its  surface,  and  a  solitary  loon  laughed  and  frolicked 
for  our  amusement.  Joe  Merry  Mountain  appeared  in 
the  northwest,  and  we  had  our  first  view  of  Katahdin, 
its  summit  veiled  in  clouds,  like  a  dark  isthmus  con- 
necting the  heavens  with  the  earth.  After  two  miles  of 
smooth  rowing,  we  found  ourselves  in  the  river  again, 
which  was  a  continuous  rapid  for  one  mile,  to  the  dam, 
requiring  all  the  strength  and  skill  of  our  boatmen  to 
pole  up  it. 

This  dam  is  a  quite  important  and  expensive  work 
for  this  country,  raising  the  whole  river  ten  feet,  and 
flooding  some  sixty  square  miles  by  means  of  the  innu- 
merable lakes  with  which  the  river  connects.  It  is 
a  lofty  and  solid  structure,  with  sloping  piers,  some 
distance  above,  made  of  frames  of  logs  filled  with 
stones,  to  break  the  ice. 

We  filed  into  the  rude  loggers'  camp  at  this  place, 
without  ceremony,  and  the  cook,  at  that  moment  the 
sole  occupant,  at  once  set  about  preparing  tea  for  his 
visitors.  His  fireplace,  which  the  rain  had  converted 
into  a  mud-puddle,  was  soon  blazing,  and  we  sat  down 
on  the  log  benches  around  it  to  dry  us.  On  the  well- 
flattened  and  somewhat  faded  beds  of  arbor-vitae 
leaves,  which  stretched  on  either  hand  under  the  eaves 
behind  us,  lay  an  odd  leaf  of  the  Bible,  and  we  found 
Emerson's  Address  on  West  India  Emancipation, 
also  an  odd  number  of  the  Westminster  Review  and 
a  pamphlet  entitled  "  History  of  the  Erection  of  the 
Monument  on  the  Grave  of  Myron  Holly."  This  was 


22  KATAHDIN 

the  reading-matter  in  a  lumberers'  camp  in  the  Maine 
woods,  thirty  miles  from  a  road,  which  would  be  given 
up  to  the  bears  in  a  fortnight.  These  things  were  well 
thumbed  and  soiled.  This  gang  was  necessarily  com- 
posed of  men  not  bred  to  the  business  of  dam-building, 
but  who  were  jacks-at-all-trades,  handy  with  the  axe 
and  other  simple  implements,  and  well  skilled  in  wood 
and  water  craft.  We  had  hot  cakes  for  our  supper 
even  here,  white  as  snowballs,  but  without  butter, 
and  the  never-failing  sweet  cakes,  with  which  we 
filled  our  pockets,  foreseeing  that  we  should  not  soon 
meet  with  the  like  again.  Such  delicate  puff  balls 
seemed  a  singular  diet  for  backwoodsmen.  There 
was  also  tea  without  milk,  sweetened  with  molasses. 
When  we  had  returned  to  the  shore,  we  made  haste  to 
improve  the  little  daylight  that  remained.  This  camp 
was  the  last  human  habitation  of  any  kind  in  this  di- 
rection. Beyond  there  was  no  trail ;  and  the  river  and 
lakes,  by  bateaus  and  canoes,  was  considered  the  only 
practicable  route.  We  were  about  thirty  miles  by  the 
river  from  the  summit  of  Katahdin,  though  not  more 
than  twenty,  perhaps,  in  a  straight  line. 

It  being  about  the  full  of  the  moon,  and  a  warm  and 
pleasant  evening,  we  decided  to  row  by  moonlight  to 
the  head  of  the  North  Twin  Lake,  lest  the  wind  should 
rise  on  the  morrow.  After  one  mile  of  river,  or  what 
the  boatmen  call  "  thoroughfare,"  we  entered  the  lake 
just  after  sundown.  This  is  a  noble  sheet  of  water. 
There  was  the  smoke  of  no  log  hut  nor  camp  of  any 
kind  to  greet  us,  still  less  was  any  traveler  watching 
our  bateau  from  the  distant  hills.  Not  even  the  Indian 
hunter  was  there,  for  he  hugs  the  river  like  ourselves. 
No  face  welcomed  us  but  the  fine  fantastic  sprays  of 


KATAHDIN  23 

free  and  happy  evergreen  trees,  waving  one  above 
another  in  their  ancient  home.  At  first  the  red  clouds 
hung  over  the  western  shore  as  gorgeously  as  if  over  a 
city,  and  the  lake  lay  open  to  the  light  with  even  a  civ- 
ilized aspect,  as  if  expecting  trade  and  commerce,  and 
towns  and  villas.  The  shores  rose  gently  to  ranges  of 
low  hills  covered  with  forests;  and  though  the  most 
valuable  white  pine  timber  had  been  culled  out,  this 
would  never  have  been  suspected  by  the  voyager. 

We  were  on  a  high  table-land  between  the  States 
and  Canada,  the  northern  side  of  which  is  drained  by 
the  St.  John  and  Chaudiere,1  the  southern  by  the 
Penobscot  and  Kennebec.  There  was  no  bold,  moun- 
tainous shore,  but  only  isolated  hills  and  mountains. 
The  country  is  an  archipelago  of  lakes.  Their  lev- 
els vary  but  a  few  feet,  and  the  boatmen  by  short 
portages,  or  by  none  at  all,  pass  easily  from  one  to 
another.  They  say  that  at  very  high  water  the  Penob- 
scot and  the  Kennebec  flow  into  each  other,  or  at  any 
rate,  that  you  may  lie  with  your  face  in  the  one  and 
your  toes  in  the  other. 

None  of  our  party  but  McCauslin  had  been  above 
this  lake,  so  we  trusted  to  him  to  pilot  us,  and  we  could 
not  but  confess  the  importance  of  a  pilot  on  these 
waters.  While  it  is  river,  you  will  not  easily  forget 
which  way  is  up-stream,  but  when  you  enter  a  lake,  the 
river  is  completely  lost,  and  you  scan  the  distant  shores 
in  vain  to  find  where  it  comes  in.  A  stranger  is,  for  the 
tune  at  least,  lost,  and  must  set  about  a  voyage  of 
discovery  to  find  the  river.  To  follow  the  windings  of 
the  shore  when  the  lake  is  ten  miles,  or  even  more, 
in  length,  and  of  an  irregularity  which  will  not  soon  be 

i  Sho'dySr'. 


24  KATAHDIN 

mapped,  is  a  wearisome  voyage,  and  will  spend  his  time 
and  his  provisions.  They  tell  a  story  of  a  gang  of  ex- 
perienced woodmen  sent  to  a  location  on  this  stream, 
who  were  thus  lost  in  the  wilderness  of  lakes.  They 
cut  their  way  through  thickets,  and  carried  their  bag- 
gage and  their  boats  over  from  lake  to  lake,  sometimes 
several  miles.  They  carried  into  Millinocket  Lake, 
which  is  on  another  stream,  and  is  ten  miles  square, 
and  contains  a  hundred  islands.  They  explored  its 
shores  thoroughly,  and  then  carried  into  another,  and 
another,  and  it  was  a  week  of  toil  and  anxiety  before 
they  found  the  Penobscot  River  again,  and  then  their 
provisions  were  exhausted,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
return. 

While  Uncle  George  steered  for  a  small  island  near 
the  head  of  the  lake,  we  rowed  by  turns  swiftly  over  its 
surface.  The  shores  seemed  at  an  indefinite  distance 
in  the  moonlight.  Occasionally  we  rested  on  our  oars, 
while  we  listened  to  hear  if  the  wolves  howled,  for  this 
is  a  common  serenade,  and  my  companions  affirmed 
that  it  was  the  most  dismal  and  unearthly  of  sounds, 
but  we  heard  none  this  time.  Only  some  utterly  un- 
civilized, big-throated  owl  hooted  loud  and  dismally 
in  the  drear  and  boughy  wilderness,  plainly  not  ner- 
vous about  his  solitary  life,  nor  afraid  to  hear  the 
echoes  of  his  voice  there. 

About  nine  o'clock  we  reached  the  river,  and  ran  our 
boat  into  a  natural  haven  between  some  rocks,  and 
drew  her  out  on  the  sand.  This  camping-ground  Mc- 
Causlin  had  been  familiar  with  in  his  lumbering  days, 
and  we  heard  the  sound  of  the  rill  which  would  supply 
us  with  cool  water  emptying  into  the  lake.  The  first 
business  was  to  make  a  fire,  an  operation  which  was  a 


KATAHDIN  25 

little  delayed  by  the  wetness  of  the  fuel  and  the  ground, 
owing  to  the  heavy  showers  of  the  afternoon.  The  fire 
is  the  main  comfort  of  the  camp,  whether  in  summer  or 
winter,  and  is  about  as  ample  at  one  season  as  at  an- 
other. It  is  as  well  for  cheerfulness  as  for  warmth  and 
dryness.  Some  were  dispersed  to  fetch  in  dead  trees 
and  boughs,  while  Uncle  George  felled  the  birches 
and  beeches  which  stood  convenient,  and  soon  we  had 
a  fire  some  ten  feet  long  by  three  or  four  high,  which 
rapidly  dried  the  sand  before  it.  This  was  calculated 
to  burn  all  night.  We  next  proceeded  to  pitch  our  tent; 
which  operation  was  performed  by  sticking  our  two 
spike-poles  into  the  ground  in  a  slanting  direction, 
about  ten  feet  apart,  for  rafters,  and  then  drawing  our 
cotton  cloth  over  them  and  tying  it  down  at  the  ends, 
leaving  it  open  in  front,  shed-fashion.  But  this  even- 
ing the  wind  carried  the  sparks  on  to  the  tent.  So  we 
hastily  drew  up  the  bateau  just  within  the  edge  of 
the  woods  before  the  fire,  and  propping  up  one  side 
three  or  four  feet  high,  spread  the  tent  on  the  ground 
to  lie  on ;  and  with  the  corner  of  a  blanket,  or  what 
we  could  get  to  put  over  us,  lay  down  with  our  heads 
and  bodies  under  the  boat,  and  our  feet  and  legs  on 
the  sand  toward  the  fire. 

At  first  we  lay  awake,  talking  of  our  course.  But 
at  length  we  composed  ourselves  seriously  to  sleep.  It 
was  interesting  when  awakened  at  midnight  to  watch 
the  motions  of  some  one  of  the  party,  who  had  got  up 
to  arouse  the  fire  and  add  fresh  fuel;  now  lugging  a 
dead  tree  from  out  the  dark,  and  heaving  it  on,  now 
stirring  up  the  embers,  or  tiptoeing  about  to  observe 
the  stars.  Thus  aroused,  I  too  brought  fresh  fuel  to 
the  fire,  and  then  rambled  along  the  sandy  shore 


26  KATAHDIN 

in  the  moonlight.  The  little  rill  tinkled  and  peopled 
all  the  wilderness  for  me ;  and  the  glassy  smoothness 
of  the  sleeping  lake,  laving  the  shores,  with  the  dark, 
fantastic  rocks  rising  here  and  there  from  its  surface, 
made  a  scene  not  easily  described.  Later,  we  were 
one  after  another  awakened  by  rain  falling  on  our  ex- 
tremities ;  and  as  each  was  made  aware  of  the  fact  by 
cold  or  wet,  he  drew  up  his  legs,  until  gradually  we  had 
all  sidled  round  so  that  our  bodies  were  wholly  pro- 
tected. When  next  we  awoke,  the  moon  and  stars  were 
shining  again,  and  there  were  signs  of  dawn  in  the  east. 

We  had  soon  launched  and  loaded  our  boat,  and, 
leaving  our  fire  blazing,  were  off  again  before  break- 
fast. The  lumberers  rarely  trouble  themselves  to  put 
out  their  fires,  such  is  the  dampness  of  the  primitive 
forest ;  and  this  is  one  cause,  no  doubt,  of  the  frequent 
fires  in  Maine.  The  forests  are  held  cheap  after  the 
white  pine  has  been  culled  out ;  and  the  explorers  and 
hunters  pray  for  rain  only  to  clear  the  atmosphere  of 
smoke.  The  woods  were  so  wet  to-day,  however,  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  our  fire  spreading.  After  poling 
up  half  a  mile  of  river,  we  rowed  across  the  foot  of 
Pamadumcook 1  Lake,  and  passed  into  Deep  Cove,  a 
part  of  the  same  lake,  and,  rowing  across  this,  by  an- 
other short  thoroughfare  entered  Ambejijis  2  Lake. 

At  the  entrance  to  a  lake  we  sometimes  observed  the 
unhewn  timbers  of  which  booms  are  formed,  either 
secured  together  in  the  water,  or  laid  up  on  the  rocks 
and  lashed  to  trees,  for  spring  use.  It  was  easy  to  see 
that  driving  logs  must  be  an  exciting  as  well  as  arduous 
and  dangerous  business.  All  winter  long  the  logger 
goes  on  piling  up  the  trees  which  he  has  trimmed  and 

1  Pam-A-dum'kook.  2  Am-b6-je'jls. 


Copyright,  1909,  by  William  Lyman  Underwood 

WINTER   LOGGING 


Copyright,  1U09,  by  William  Lyman  Underwood 

KIVER-DKIVEKS    AT    WORK 


KATAHDIN  27 

hauled  in  some  dry  ravine  at  the  head  of  a  stream,  and 
then  in  the  spring  he  stands  on  the  bank  and  whistles 
for  Rain  and  Thaw,  ready  to  wring  the  perspiration 
out  of  his  shirt  to  swell  the  tide,  till  suddenly,  with 
a  whoop  and  halloo  from  him,  a  fair  proportion  of 
his  winter's  work  goes  scrambling  down  the  country, 
followed  by  his  faithful  dogs,  Thaw  and  Rain  and 
Freshet  and  Wind,  the  whole  pack  in  full  cry,  toward 
the  mills.  Every  log  is  marked  with  the  owner's  name, 
cut  with  an  axe  or  bored  with  an  auger,  so  deep  as  not 
to  be  worn  off  in  the  driving,  and  yet  not  so  as  to  injure 
the  timber;  and  it  requires  considerable  ingenuity  to 
invent  new  and  simple  marks  where  there  are  so  many 
owners.  When  the  logs  have  run  the  gauntlet  of  in- 
numerable rapids  and  falls,  with  more  or  less  jamming 
and  bruising,  those  bearing  various  owners'  marks  be- 
ing mixed  up  together,  —  since  all  must  take  advantage 
of  the  same  freshet,  —  they  are  collected  at  the  heads  of 
the  lakes  and  surrounded  by  a  boom  to  prevent  their 
being  dispersed  by  the  wind.  Then  they  are  towed 
across  the  lake  by  a  windlass,  and,  if  circumstances 
permit,  with  the  aid  of  sails  and  oars.  Sometimes,  not- 
withstanding, the  logs  are  dispersed  over  many  miles 
of  lake  surface  in  a  few  hours  by  winds  and  freshets, 
and  thrown  up  on  distant  shores,  where  the  driver 
can  pick  up  only  one  or  two  at  a  time  and  return  with 
them  to  the  thoroughfare ;  and  before  he  gets  his  flock 
well  through  Ambejijis  or  Pamadumcook,  he  makes 
many  a  wet  and  uncomfortable  camp  on  the  shore. 
He  must  be  able  to  navigate  a  log  as  if  it  were  a 
canoe,  and  be  as  indifferent  to  cold  and  wet  as  a  musk- 
rat.  He  uses  few  tools  —  a  lever  commonly  of  rock 
maple,  six  or  seven  feet  long  with  a  stout  spike  in  it, 


28  KATAHDIN 

and  a  long  spike-pole  with  a  screw  at  the  end  of  the 
spike  to  make  it  hold.  The  boys  along  shore  learn  to 
walk  on  floating  logs  as  city  boys  on  sidewalks.  Some- 
times the  logs  are  thrown  up  on  rocks  in  such  posi- 
tions as  to  be  irrecoverable  but  by  another  freshet 
as  high,  or  they  jam  together  at  rapids  and  falls,  and 
accumulate  in  vast  piles,  which  the  driver  must  start 
at  the  risk  of  his  life.  Such  is  the  lumber  business, 
which  depends  on  many  accidents,  as  the  early  freez- 
ing of  the  rivers  that  the  teams  may  get  up  in  season, 
a  sufficient  freshet  in  the  spring  to  fetch  the  logs 
down,  and  many  others. 

Ambejijis  struck  me  as  the  most  beautiful  lake  we 
had  seen.  We  rowed  to  near  the  head  of  it,  and  push- 
ing through  a  field  of  lily-pads,  landed,  to  cook  our 
breakfast,  by  the  side  of  a  large  rock.  Our  breakfast 
consisted  of  tea,  with  hard-bread  and  pork,  and  fried 
salmon,  which  we  ate  with  forks  whittled  from  alder- 
twigs  off  strips  of  birch-bark  for  plates.  The  tea  was 
without  milk  to  color  or  sugar  to  sweeten  it,  and  two 
tin  dippers  were  our  teacups.  This  beverage  is  as 
indispensable  to  the  loggers  as  to  any  gossiping  old 
women  in  the  land,  and  they  no  doubt  derive  great 
comfort  from  it. 

In  the  next  nine  miles,  we  rowed  across  several 
small  lakes,  poled  up  numerous  rapids  and  thorough- 
fares, and  carried  over  four  portages. 

At  the  portage  around  Ambejijis  Falls  I  observed 
a  pork-barrel  on  the  shore,  with  a  hole  eight  or  nine 
inches  square  cut  in  one  side.  The  barrel  was  set 
against  an  upright  rock,  but  the  bears,  without  turning 
or  upsetting  it,  had  gnawed  a  hole  in  the  opposite  side, 
which  looked  exactly  like  an  enormous  rat-hole,  big 


KATAHDIN  29 

enough  to  put  their  heads  in ;  and  at  the  bottom  of 
the  barrel  were  still  left  a  few  mangled  and  slabbered 
slices  of  pork.  It  is  usual  for  the  lumberers  to  leave 
such  supplies  as  they  cannot  conveniently  carry  along 
at  carries  or  camps,  to  which  the  next  comers  do  not 
scruple  to  help  themselves.  At  this  portage  there  was 
the  roughest  path  imaginable  cut  through  the  woods ; 
at  first  up  hill,  at  an  angle  of  nearly  forty-five  degrees, 
over  rocks  and  logs  without  end.  We  first  carried  over 
our  baggage,  then  returning  to  the  bateau,  we  dragged 
it  up  the  hill  by  the  painter,  and  onward,  with  frequent 
pauses,  over  half  the  portage.  But  this  was  a  bungling 
way,  and  would  soon  have  worn  out  the  boat.  Com- 
monly, three  men  walk  over  with  a  bateau  weighing 
from  three  to  five  or  six  hundred  pounds  on  their  heads 
and  shoulders,  the  tallest  standing  under  the  middle  of 
the  boat,  which  is  turned  over,  and  one  at  each  end. 
More  cannot  well  take  hold  at  once.  This  requires 
some  practice,  as  well  as  strength,  and  is  in  any  case 
extremely  laborious.  We  were,  on  the  whole,  rather  an 
invalid  party,  and  could  render  our  boatmen  but  little 
assistance.  Our  two  men  at  length  took  the  bateau  upon 
their  shoulders,  and  while  two  of  us  steadied  it,  to  pre- 
vent it  from  rocking  and  wearing  into  their  shoulders, 
on  which  they  placed  their  hats  folded,  walked  bravely 
over  the  remaining  distance,  with  two  or  three  pauses. 
In  the  same  manner  they  accomplished  the  other  por- 
tages. With  this  crushing  weight  they  must  climb  and 
stumble  along  over  fallen  trees  and  slippery  rocks  of  all 
sizes,  where  those  who  walked  by  the  sides  were  con- 
tinually brushed  off,  such  was  the  narrowness  of  the 
path.  But  we  were  fortunate  not  to  have  to  cut  our 
path  in  the  first  place.  Before  we  launched  our  boat, 


30  KATAHDIN 

we  scraped  the  bottom  smooth  with  our  knives,  where 
it  had  rubbed  on  the  rocks,  to  save  friction. 

To  avoid  the  difficulties  of  the  portage,  our  men  de- 
termined to  "warp  up"  the  Passamagamet 1  Falls;  so 
while  the  rest  walked  over  the  portage  with  the  baggage, 
I  remained  in  the  bateau,  to  assist  in  warping  up.  We 
were  soon  in  the  midst  of  the  rapids,  which  were  more 
swift  and  tumultuous  than  any  we  had  poled  up,  and 
had  turned  to  the  side  of  the  stream  for  the  purpose 
of  warping,  when  the  boatmen,  who  felt  some  pride  in 
their  skill,  and  were  ambitious  to  do  something  more 
than  usual,  for  my  benefit  as  I  surmised,  took  one  more 
view  of  the  falls,  pushed  again  into  the  midst  of  the 
stream,  and  began  to  struggle  with  the  current.  I 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the  boat  to  trim  it,  moving  slightly 
to  the  right  or  left  as  it  grazed  a  rock.  With  an  un- 
certain and  wavering  motion  we  wound  and  bolted 
our  way  up,  until  the  bow  was  actually  raised  two  feet 
above  the  stern  at  the  steepest  pitch;  and  then,  when 
everything  depended  upon  his  exertions,  the  bowman's 
pole  snapped  in  two ;  but  before  he  had  time  to  take 
the  spare  one,  which  I  reached  him,  he  had  saved 
himself  with  the  fragment  upon  a  rock  ;  and  so  we 
got  up  by  a  hair's  breadth.  Uncle  George  exclaimed 
that  that  was  never  done  before,  and  he  had  not  tried 
it  if  he  had  not  known  whom  he  had  got  in  the  bow, 
nor  he  in  the  bow,  if  he  had  not  known  him  in  the 
stern. 

I  could  not  sufficiently  admire  the  skill  and  cool- 
ness with  which  they  performed  this  feat,  never  speak- 
ing to  each  other.  The  bowman,  not  looking  behind, 
bu,t  knowing  exactly  what  the  other  is  about,  works  as 
l  PSs-d-md-gSm'St. 


POLIXG    UP-STREAM 


KUXMNG    DOWN-STREAM 


KATAHDIN  31 

if  he  worked  alone.  Now  sounding  in  vain  for  a  bottom 
in  fifteen  feet  of  water,  while  the  boat  falls  back  several 
rods,  held  straight  only  with  the  greatest  skill  and 
exertion ;  or,  while  the  sternman  obstinately  holds  his 
ground,  the  bowman  springs  from  side  to  side  with 
wonderful  suppleness  and  dexterity,  scanning  the 
rapids  and  the  rocks ;  and  now,  having  got  a  bite  at 
last,  with  a  lusty  shove,  which  makes  his  pole  bend 
and  quiver,  and  the  whole  boat  tremble,  he  gains  a  few 
feet  upon  the  river.  To  add  to  the  danger,  the  poles 
are  liable  at  any  time  to  be  caught  between  the  rocks, 
and  wrenched  out  of  their  hands,  leaving  them  at  the 
mercy  of  the  rapids  —  the  rocks,  as  it  were,  lying  in 
wait,  like  so  many  alligators,  to  catch  the  poles  in  their 
teeth,  and  jerk  them  from  your  hands,  before  you 
have  stolen  an  effectual  shove.  Nothing  but  the  length 
and  lightness,  and  the  slight  draught  of  the  bateau, 
enables  them  to  make  any  headway.  The  bowman 
must  quickly  choose  his  course;  there  is  no  time  to 
deliberate.  Frequently  the  boat  is  shoved  between 
rocks  where  both  sides  touch,  and  the  waters  on  either 
hand  are  a  perfect  maelstrom. 

Half  a  mile  above  this,  two  of  us  tried  our  hands  at 
poling  up  a  slight  rapid,  and  we  were  just  surmounting 
the  last  difficulty  when  an  unlucky  rock  confounded 
our  calculations;  and  while  the  bateau  was  sweep- 
ing round  irrecoverably  amid  the  whirlpool,  we  were 
obliged  to  resign  the  poles  to  more  skillful  hands. 

The  forenoon  was  serene  and  placid.  We  were 
occasionally  startled  by  the  scream  of  a  bald  eagle, 
sailing  over  the  stream  in  front  of  our  bateau,  or  of 
the  fish  hawks  on  whom  he  levies  his  contributions. 
There  were  at  intervals  small  meadows  of  a  few  acres 


32  KATAHDIN 

on  the  sides  of  the  streams,  waving  with  uncut  grass, 
which  attracted  the  attention  of  our  boatmen,  who 
regretted  that  they  were  not  nearer  to  their  clear- 
ings, and  calculated  how  many  stacks  they  might  cut. 
Two  or  three  men  sometimes  spend  the  summer  by 
themselves,  cutting  the  grass  in  these  meadows,  to 
sell  to  the  loggers  in  the  winter,  since  it  will  fetch  a 
higher  price  on  the  spot  than  in  any  market  in  the 
State.  On  a  small  isle  covered  with  this  grass  we 
noticed  the  recent  track  of  a  moose.  They  are  fond 
of  the  water,  and  visit  all  these  island  meadows, 
swimming  as  easily  from  island  to  island  as  they 
make  their  way  through  the  thickets  on  land. 

The  carry  around  Pockwockomus  1  Falls  was  ex- 
ceedingly rough  and  rocky,  the  bateau  having  to  be 
lifted  directly  from  the  water  up  four  or  five  feet  on 
to  a  rock,  and  launched  again  down  a  similar  bank. 
The  rocks  on  this  portage  were  covered  with  the  dents 
made  by  the  spikes  in  the  lumberers'  boots  while 
staggering  over  under  the  weight  of  their  bateaux; 
and  you  could  see  where  the  surface  of  some  large 
rocks  on  which  they  had  rested  their  bateaux  was 
worn  quite  smooth  with  use.  We  carried  over  but 
half  the  usual  portage  at  this  place,  and  launched  our 
boat  in  the  smooth  wave  just  curving  to  the  fall,  pre- 
pared to  struggle  with  the  most  violent  rapid  we  had 
to  encounter.  The  rest  of  the  party  walked  over  the 
remainder  of  the  portage,  while  I  remained  with  the 
boatmen  to  assist  in  warping  up.  One  had  to  hold  the 
boat  while  the  others  got  in,  to  prevent  it  from  going 
over  the  falls.  When  we  had  pushed  up  the  rapids  as 
far  as  possible,  keeping  close  to  the  shore,  Tom  seized 

1  Pok-wok'o-mus. 


KATAHDIX  33 

the  painter  and  leaped  out  upon  a  rock  just  visible 
in  the  water,  but  he  lost  his  footing,  notwithstanding 
his  spiked  boots,  and  was  instantly  amid  the  rapids ; 
but  recovering  himself,  and  reaching  another  rock,  he 
passed  the  painter  to  me,  who  had  followed  him,  and 
took  his  place  again  in  the  bows.  Leaping  from  rock 
to  rock  in  the  shoal  water,  close  to  the  shore,  and  now 
and  then  getting  a  bite  with  the  rope  round  an  upright 
one,  I  held  the  boat  while  one  reset  his  pole,  and  then 
all  three  forced  it  upward.  When  a  part  of  us  walked 
round  at  such  a  place  we  generally  took  out  the  most 
valuable  part  of  the  baggage,  for  fear  of  being  swamped. 

As  we  poled  up  a  swift  rapid  for  half  a  mile  above 
Abol  jacarmegus 1  Falls,  some  of  the  party  read  their  own 
marks  on  the  huge  logs  which  lay  piled  high  and  dry 
on  the  rocks  on  either  hand,  the  relics  probably  of  a 
jam  which  had  taken  place  here  in  the  Great  Freshet 
in  the  spring.  Many  of  these  would  have  to  wait  for 
another  great  freshet,  perchance,  if  they  lasted  so 
long,  before  they  could  be  got  off.  It  was  singular 
enough  to  meet  with  property  of  theirs  which  they 
had  never  seen,  and  where  they  had  never  been  before, 
thus  detained  by  freshets  and  rocks  when  on  its  way 
to  them. 

The  last  half  mile  carried  us  to  the  Sowadnehunk2 
Deadwater.  Here  we  decided  to  camp,  about  twenty 
miles  from  the  Dam,  at  the  mouth  of  Murch  Brook 
and  the  Aboljacknagesic,3  mountain  streams,  broad 
off  from  Katahdin,  and  about  a  dozen  miles  from  its 
summit. 

1  A-bol-j&k-a-me'gus.  Now  commonly  abbreviated  to  Abol  (a'bol). 

2  Sou-ad-ne-hunk'. 

8  A-bol-jak-na-gSss'ik.  Now,  like  the  above,  abbreviated  to  Abol. 


34  KATAHDIN 

We  had  been  told  by  McCauslin  that  we  should 
here  find  trout  enough;  so,  while  some  prepared  the 
camp,  the  rest  fell  to  fishing.  Seizing  the  birch  poles 
which  some  party  of  Indians,  or  white  hunters,  had 
left  on  the  shore,  and  baiting  our  hooks  with  pork, 
and  with  trout  as  soon  as  they  were  caught,  we  cast 
our  lines  into  the  Aboljacknagesic.  Instantly  a  shoal 
of  white  chivin,  silvery  roaches,  or  what  not,  prowling 
thereabouts,  fell  upon  our  bait,  and  one  after  another 
were  landed  amidst  the  bushes.  Anon  their  cousins, 
the  trout,  took  their  turn,  and  alternately  the  speckled 
trout  and  the  silvery  roaches  swallowed  the  bait  as 
fast  as  we  could  throw  in ;  and  the  finest  specimens 
of  both  that  I  have  ever  seen,  the  largest  one  weighing 
three  pounds,  were  heaved  upon  the  shore,  though 
at  first  to  wriggle  down  into  the  water  again,  for  we 
stood  in  the  boat ;  but  soon  we  learned  to  remedy  this 
evil,  for  one  of  us,  who  had  lost  his  hook,  stood  on 
shore  to  catch  them  as  they  fell  in  a  perfect  shower 
around  him  —  sometimes,  wet  and  slippery,  full  in  his 
face  and  bosom,  as  his  arms  were  outstretched  to 
receive  them.  While  yet  alive,  before  their  tints  had 
faded,  they  glistened  like  the  fairest  flowers,  the  pro- 
duct of  primitive  rivers,  seen  of  Indians  only,  made 
beautiful,  the  Lord  only  knows  why,  to  swim  there ! 

But  there  is  the  rough  voice  of  Uncle  George,  who 
commands  at  the  frying-pan.  The  pork  sizzles,  and 
cries  for  fish.  The  night  shut  down  at  last,  not  a  little 
deepened  by  the  dark  side  of  Katahdin,  which,  like  a 
permanent  shadow,  reared  itself  from  the  eastern  bank. 
We  accompanied  Tom  into  the  woods  to  cut  cedar 
twigs  for  our  bed.  While  he  went  ahead  with  the  axe, 
and  lopped  off  the  smallest  twigs  of  the  flat-leaved 


KATAHDIN  35 

cedar,  the  arbor-vitae  of  the  gardens,  we  gathered  them 
up,  and  returned  with  them  to  the  boat,  until  it  was 
loaded.  Our  bed  was  made  with  as  much  care  and 
skill  as  a  roof  is  shingled ;  beginning  at  the  foot,  and 
laying  the  twig  end  of  the  cedar  upward,  we  advanced 
to  the  head,  a  course  at  a  time,  thus  successively  cover- 
ing the  stub-ends,  and  producing  a  soft  and  level  bed. 
For  us  six  it  was  about  ten  feet  long  by  six  in  breadth. 
This  time  we  lay  under  our  tent,  having  pitched  it 
more  prudently  with  reference  to  the  wind  and  the 
flame,  and  the  usual  huge  fire  blazed  in  front.  Supper 
was  eaten  off  a  large  log,  which  some  freshet  had  thrown 
up.  This  night  we  had  a  dish  of  arbor-vitae  or  cedar 
tea,  which  the  lumberer  sometimes  uses  when  other 
herbs  fail,  but  I  had  no  wish  to  repeat  the  experiment. 
It  had  too  medicinal  a  taste  for  my  palate.  There  was 
the  skeleton  of  a  moose  here,  whose  bones  some  Indian 
hunters  had  picked  on  this  very  spot.  I  arose  before 
dawn  while  my  companions  were  still  sleeping.  There 
stood  Katahdin  with  distinct  and  cloudless  outline 
in  the  moonlight ;  and  the  rippling  of  the  rapids  was 
the  only  sound  to  break  the  stillness.  Standing  on  the 
shore,  I  once  more  cast  my  line  into  the  stream.  The 
speckled  trout  and  silvery  roach  sped  swiftly  through 
the  moonlight  air  until  daylight  brought  satiety  to 
my  mind,  and  the  minds  of  my  companions,  who  had 
joined  me. 

By  six  o'clock,  having  mounted  our  packs  and  a 
good  blanketful  of  trout,  ready  dressed,  and  swung  up 
such  baggage  and  provision  as  we  wished  to  leave 
behind  on  the  tops  of  saplings,  to  be  out  of  the  reach 
of  bears,  we  started  for  the  summit  of  the  mountain. 
Uncle  George  had  never  been  any  nearer  the  mountain 


36  KATAHDIN 

than  this,  and  there  was  not  the  slightest  trace  of  man 
to  guide  us  farther.  At  first,  pushing  a  few  rods  up  the 
Aboljacknagesic,  we  fastened  our  bateau  to  a  tree, 
and  traveled  up  the  north  side,  through  burnt  lands, 
now  partially  overgrown  with  young  aspens  and  other 
shrubbery.  Soon,  recrossing  this  stream,  upon  a  jam  of 
logs  and  rocks,  —  and  you  could  cross  it  by  this  means 
almost  anywhere,  —  we  struck  at  once  for  the  highest 
peak.  This  course  would  lead  us  parallel  to  a  dark 
seam  in  the  forest,  which  marked  the  bed  of  a  tor- 
rent, and  over  a  slight  spur,  from  whose  bare  summit 
we  could  get  an  outlook  over  the  country,  and  climb 
directly  up  the  peak,  which  would  then  be  close  at 
hand.  Seen  from  this  point,  Katahdin  presented  a 
different  aspect  from  any  mountain  I  have  seen,  there 
being  a  greater  proportion  of  naked  rock  rising 
abruptly  from  the  forest;  and  we  looked  up  at  this 
blue  barrier  as  if  it  were  some  fragment  of  a  wall 
which  anciently  bounded  the  earth  in  that  direction. 
Setting  the  compass  for  a  northeast  course,  we  were 
soon  buried  in  the  woods. 

We  soon  began  to  meet  with  traces  of  bear  and 
moose,  and  those  of  rabbits  were  everywhere  visible. 
The  tracks  of  moose,  more  or  less  recent,  covered 
every  square  rod  on  the  sides  of  the  mountain;  and 
these  animals  are  probably  more  numerous  now  there 
than  ever  before,  being  driven  into  this  wilderness, 
from  all  sides,  by  the  settlements.  The  track  of  a  full- 
grown  moose  is  like  that  of  a  cow,  or  larger.  Some- 
times we  found  ourselves  traveling  in  faint  paths, 
which  they  had  made,  like  cow-paths  in  the  woods, 
only  far  more  indistinct,  being  rather  openings,  afford- 
ing imperfect  vistas  through  the  dense  underwood, 


KATAHDIN  37 

than  trodden  paths;  and  everywhere  the  twigs  had 
been  browsed  by  them,  clipped  as  smoothly  as  if  by 
a  knife.  The  bark  of  trees  was  stripped  up  by  them  to 
the  height  of  eight  or  nine  feet,  in  long,  narrow  strips, 
an  inch  wide,  still  showing  the  distinct  marks  of  their 
teeth.  We  expected  nothing  less  than  to  meet  a  herd  of 
them  every  moment,  and  our  Nimrod  held  his  shoot- 
ing-iron in  readiness;  but,  though  numerous,  they 
are  so  wary  that  the  unskillful  hunter  might  range 
the  forest  a  long  time  before  he  could  get  sight  of  one. 
They  are  sometimes  dangerous  to  encounter,  and  will 
not  turn  out  for  the  hunter,  but  furiously  rush  on  him 
and  trample  him  to  death,  unless  he  is  lucky  enough 
to  avoid  them  by  dodging  round  a  tree.  The  largest 
are  nearly  as  large  as  a  horse,  and  weigh  sometimes 
one  thousand  pounds ;  and  it  is  said  that  they  can  step 
over  a  five-foot  gate  in  their  ordinary  walk.  They  are 
described  as  exceedingly  awkward-looking  animals, 
with  their  long  legs  and  short  bodies,  making  a  ludi- 
crous figure  when  in  full  run,  but  making  great  head- 
way nevertheless.  It  seemed  a  mystery  to  us  how  they 
could  thread  these  woods,  which  it  required  all  our 
suppleness  to  accomplish  —  climbing,  stooping,  and 
winding,  alternately.  They  are  said  to  drop  their  long 
and  branching  horns  on  their  backs,  and  make  their 
way  easily  by  the  weight  of  their  bodies.  Their  flesh, 
which  is  more  like  beef  than  venison,  is  common  in 
Bangor  market. 

We  had  proceeded  seven  or  eight  miles,  till  about 
noon,  with  frequent  pauses  to  refresh  the  weary  ones, 
cross  ing  a  considerable  mountain  stream,  which  we  con- 
jectured to  be  Murch  Brook,  at  whose  mouth  we  had 
camped,  all  the  time  in  woods,  without  having  once 


38  KATAHDIN 

seen  the  summit,  and  rising  very  gradually,  when  the 
boatmen  beginning  to  despair  a  little,  and  fearing 
that  we  were  leaving  the  mountain  on  one  side  of  us, 
for  they  had  not  entire  faith  in  the  compass,  McCauslin 
climbed  a  tree,  from  the  top  of  which  he  could  see  the 
peak,  when  it  appeared  that  we  had  not  swerved  from 
a  right  line.  By  the  side  of  a  cool  mountain  rill,  amid 
the  woods,  where  the  water  began  to  partake  of  the 
purity  and  transparency  of  the  air,  we  stopped  to  cook 
some  of  our  fishes,  which  we  had  brought  thus  far  in 
order  to  save  our  hard-bread  and  pork.  We  soon  had 
a  fire  blazing,  and  stood  around  it,  under  the  damp 
and  sombre  forest  of  firs  and  birches,  each  with  a 
sharpened  stick,  three  or  four  feet  in  length,  upon 
which  he  had  spitted  his  trout,  or  roach,  previously 
well  gashed  and  salted,  our  sticks  radiating  like  the 
spokes  of  a  wheel  from  one  centre,  and  each  crowd- 
ing his  particular  fish  into  the  most  desirable  exposure. 
Thus  we  regaled  ourselves,  drinking  meanwhile  at  the 
spring,  till  one  man's  pack,  at  least,  was  considerably 
lightened,  when  we  again  took  up  our  line  of  march. 

At  length  we  reached  an  elevation  sufficiently  bare 
to  afford  a  view  of  the  summit,  still  distant  and  blue, 
almost  as  if  retreating  from  us.  A  torrent  was  seen 
tumbling  down  in  front.  But  this  glimpse  at  our 
whereabouts  was  soon  lost,  and  we  were  buried  in  the 
woods  again.  The  wood  was  chiefly  yellow  birch, 
spruce,  fir,  mountain-ash,  and  moose-wood.  It  was 
the  worst  kind  of  traveling.  Bunch-berries  were  very 
abundant  as  well  as  Solomon's-seal  and  moose-berries. 
Blueberries  were  distributed  along  our  whole  route; 
and  in  one  place  the  bushes  were  drooping  with  the 
weight  of  the  fruit,  still  as  fresh  as  ever.  Such  patches 


KATAHDIN  39 

afforded  a  grateful  repast,  and  served  to  bait  the  tired 
party  forward.  When  any  lagged  behind,  the  cry  of 
"blueberries"  was  most  effectual  to  bring  them  up. 
Even  at  this  elevation  we  passed  through  a  moose- 
yard,  formed  by  a  large  flat  rock,  four  or  five  rods 
square,  where  they  tread  down  the  snow  in  winter.  At 
length,  fearing  that  if  we  held  the  direct  course  to  the 
summit,  we  should  not  find  any  water  near  our  camp- 
ing-ground, we  gradually  swerved  to  the  west,  till, 
at  four  o'clock,  we  struck  again  the  torrent  which  I 
have  mentioned,  and  here,  in  view  of  the  summit,  the 
weary  party  decided  to  camp  that  night. 

While  my  companions  were  seeking  a  suitable  spot 
for  this  purpose,  I  improved  the  little  daylight  that 
was  left  in  climbing  the  mountain  alone.  We  were  in 
a  deep  and  narrow  ravine,  sloping  up  to  the  clouds 
at  an  angle  of  nearly  forty-five  degrees,  and  hemmed 
in  by  walls  of  rock,  which  were  at  first  covered  with 
low  trees,  then  with  impenetrable  thickets  of  scraggy 
birches  and  spruce  trees,  and  with  moss,  but  at  last 
bare  of  any  vegetation  but  lichens,  and  almost  con- 
tinually draped  in  clouds.  Following  the  course  of  the 
torrent,  pulling  myself  up  perpendicular  falls  of  twenty 
or  thirty  feet,  by  the  roots  of  firs  and  birches,  and  then 
perhaps  walking  a  level  rod  or  two  in  the  thin  stream, 
for  it  took  up  the  whole  road,  ascending  by  huge  steps, 
as  it  were,  a  giant's  stairway,  down  which  a  river 
flowed,  I  had  soon  cleared  the  trees  and  paused  to 
look  back  over  the  country.  The  torrent  was  from 
fifteen  to  thirty  feet  wide,  without  a  tributary,  and 
seemingly  not  diminishing  in  breadth  as  I  advanced ; 
but  still  it  came  rushing  and  roaring  down,  with  a 
copious  tide,  over  and  amidst  masses  of  bare  rock, 


40  KATAHDIN 

from  the  very  clouds,  as  though  a  waterspout  had  just 
burst  over  the  mountain.  Leaving  this  at  last,  I  began 
to  work  my  way  up  the  nearest  peak,  at  first  scram- 
bling on  all  fours  over  the  tops  of  ancient  black  spruce 
trees,  from  two  to  ten  or  twelve  feet  in  height,  their 
tops  flat  and  spreading,  and  their  foliage  blue  and 
nipped  with  cold,  as  if  for  centuries  they  had  ceased 
growing  upward  against  the  bleak  sky.  I  walked  some 
rods  erect  upon  the  tops  of  these  trees,  which  were 
overgrown  with  moss  and  mountain  cranberries.  It 
seemed  that  in  the  course  of  time  they  had  filled  up 
the  intervals  between  the  huge  rocks,  and  the  cold 
wind  had  uniformly  leveled  all  over.  There  was  ap- 
parently a  belt  of  this  kind  running  quite  round  the 
mountain.  Once,  slumping  through,  I  looked  down 
ten  feet,  into  a  dark  and  cavernous  region,  and  saw 
the  stem  of  a  spruce,  on  whose  top  I  stood  as  on  a  mass 
of  coarse  basket-work,  fully  nine  inches  in  diameter 
at  the  ground.  These  holes  were  bears'  dens,  and  the 
bears  were  even  then  at  home.  This  was  the  sort  of 
garden  I  made  my  way  over,  certainly  the  most  treach- 
erous and  porous  country  I  ever  traveled.  But  nothing 
could  exceed  the  toughness  of  the  twigs  —  not  one 
snapped  under  my  weight,  for  they  had  slowly  grown. 
Having  slumped,  scrambled,  rolled,  bounced,  and 
walked  by  turns,  over  this  scraggy  country,  I  arrived 
upon  a  side-hill  where  gray,  silent  rocks  were  the 
flocks  and  herds  that  pastured.  This  brought  me  to 
the  skirt  of  a  cloud,  and  bounded  my  walk  that  night. 
When  I  returned  to  my  companions,  they  had  se- 
lected a  camping-ground  on  the  torrent's  edge,  and 
were  resting ;  one  was  on  the  sick  list,  rolled  in  a  blanket 
on  a  damp  shelf  of  rock.  It  was  savage  and  dreary 


KATAHDIN  41 

scenery,  so  wildly  rough  that  they  looked  long  to  find 
a  level  and  open  space  for  the  tent.  We  could  not  well 
camp  higher  for  want  of  fuel ;  and  the  trees  here  seemed 
so  evergreen  and  sappy  that  we  almost  doubted  if  they 
would  acknowledge  the  influence  of  fire;  but  fire 
prevailed  at  last  and  blazed  like  a  good  citizen  of  the 
world.  It  was  perhaps  a  more  grand  and  desolate 
place  for  a  night's  lodging  than  the  summit  would  have 
been,  being  in  the  neighborhood  of  those  wild  trees, 
and  of  the  torrent.  Some  more  aerial  and  finer-spirited 
winds  rushed  and  roared  through  the  ravine  all  night, 
from  time  to  time  arousing  our  fire  and  dispersing  the 
embers  about.  It  was  as  if  we  lay  in  the  very  nest  of  a 
young  whirlwind.  At  midnight,  one  of  my  bedfellows, 
being  startled  in  his  dreams  by  the  sudden  blazing  up 
to  its  top  of  a  fir-tree,  whose  green  boughs  were  dried 
by  the  heat,  sprang  up  with  a  cry  from  his  bed,  think- 
ing the  world  on  fire,  and  drew  the  whole  camp  after 
him. 

In  the  morning,  after  whetting  our  appetite  on  some 
raw  pork,  a  wafer  of  hard-bread,  and  a  dipper  of  con- 
densed cloud  or  waterspout,  we  began  to  make  our 
way  up  the  falls ;  this  time  choosing  the  highest  peak, 
which  was  not  the  one  I  had  approached  before.  But 
soon  my  companions  were  lost  to  my  sight  behind  the 
mountain  ridge  in  my  rear,  and  I  climbed  alone  over 
huge  rocks,  loosely  poised,  a  mile  or  more,  still  edging 
toward  the  clouds ;  for  though  the  day  was  clear  else- 
where, the  summit  was  concealed  by  mist.  The  moun- 
tain seemed  a  vast  aggregation  of  loose  rocks,  as  if 
some  time  it  had  rained  rocks,  and  they  lay  as  they 
fell,  nowhere  fairly  at  rest,  but  leaning  on  each  other 
with  cavities  between.  They  were  the  raw  materials 


42  KATAHDIN 

of  a  planet  dropped  from  an  unseen  quarry,  which  the 
vast  chemistry  of  nature  would  anon  work  up  into 
the  smiling  and  verdant  plains  and  valleys  of  earth. 

At  length  I  entered  within  the  skirts  of  the  cloud 
which  seemed  forever  drifting  over  the  summit,  and 
yet  would  never  be  gone,  but  was  generated  out  of 
that  pure  air  as  fast  as  it  flowed  away.  When  I  reached 
the  summit  of  the  ridge,  which  those  who  have  seen 
it  in  clearer  weather  say  is  about  five  miles  long  and 
contains  a  thousand  acres  of  table-land,  I  was  deep 
within  the  hostile  ranks  of  clouds,  and  all  objects  were 
obscured  by  them.  Now  the  wind  would  blow  me  out 
a  yard  of  sunlight,  wherein  I  stood ;  then  a  gray,  dawn- 
ing light  was  all  it  could  accomplish,  the  cloud-line 
ever  rising  and  falling  with  the  wind's  intensity.  Some- 
times it  seemed  as  if  the  summit  would  be  cleared  in 
a  few  moments  and  smile  in  sunshine ;  but  what  was 
gained  on  one  side  was  lost  on  another.  It  was  like 
sitting  in  a  chimney  and  waiting  for  the  smoke  to  blow 
away.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  cloud-factory.  Occasionally, 
when  the  windy  columns  broke  in  to  me,  I  caught 
sight  of  a  dark,  damp  crag  to  the  right  or  left ;  the 
mist  driving  ceaselessly  between  it  and  me. 

Some  part  of  the  beholder  seems  to  escape  between 
the  loose  grating  of  his  ribs  as  he  ascends.  He  is  more 
lone  than  you  can  imagine.  Vast,  Titanic,  inhuman 
Nature  has  got  him  at  disadvantage.  She  does  not 
smile  on  him  as  in  the  plains.  She  seems  to  say  sternly: 
"Why  came  ye  here  before  your  time?  This  ground 
is  not  prepared  for  you.  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  smile 
in  the  valleys?  I  have  never  made  this  soil  for  thy 
feet,  this  air  for  thy  breathing,  these  rocks  for  thy 
neighbors.  I  cannot  pity  nor  fondle  thee  here,  but 


KATAHDIN  43 

forever  relentlessly  drive  thee  hence  to  where  I  am 
kind." 

At  length,  fearing  that  my  companions  would  be 
anxious  to  reach  the  river  before  night,  and  knowing 
that  the  clouds  might  rest  on  the  mountain  for  days, 
I  was  compelled  to  descend.  Occasionally,  as  I  came 
down,  the  wind  would  blow  a  vista  open,  through 
which  I  could  see  the  country  eastward,  boundless 
forests,  and  lakes  and  streams,  gleaming  in  the  sun. 
Now  and  then  some  small  bird  of  the  sparrow  family 
would  flit  away  before  me,  unable  to  command  its 
'  course,  like  a  fragment  of  the  gray  rock  blown  off  by 
the  wind. 

I  found  my  companions  where  I  had  left  them, 
gathering  the  mountain  cranberries,  which  filled  every 
crevice  between  the  rocks,  together  with  blueberries, 
which  had  a  spicier  flavor  the  higher  up  they  grew. 
From  this  elevation,  just  on  the  skirts  of  the  clouds, 
we  could  overlook  the  country,  west  and  south,  for  a 
hundred  miles  —  immeasurable  forest — no  clearing, 
no  house !  It  did  not  look  as  if  a  solitary  traveler  had 
cut  so  much  as  a  walking-stick  there.  Countless  lakes 
—  Moosehead  in  the  southwest,  forty  miles  long  by  ten 
wide;  Chesuncook,  eighteen  long  by  three  wide;  and 
a  hundred  others ;  and  mountains,  also,  whose  names, 
for  the  most  part,  are  known  only  to  the  Indians.  The 
forest  looked  like  a  firm  grass  sward,  and  the  effect 
of  these  lakes  in  its  midst  has  been  well  compared  to 
that  of  a  "mirror  broken  into  a  thousand  fragments, 
and  wildly  scattered  over  the  grass,  reflecting  the  full 
blaze  of  the  sun." 

Setting  out  on  our  return  to  the  river,  still  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  day,  we  decided  to  follow  the  course  of  the 


44  KATAHDIN 

torrent  as  long  as  it  would  not  lead  us  too  far  out  of 
our  way.  We  thus  traveled  about  four  miles  in  the 
very  torrent  itself,  continually  crossing  and  recrossing 
it,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  and  jumping  with  the 
stream  down  falls  of  seven  or  eight  feet,  or  sometimes 
sliding  down  on  our  backs  in  a  thin  sheet  of  water. 
This  ravine  had  been  the  scene  of  an  extraordinary 
freshet  in  the  spring,  apparently  accompanied  by  a 
slide  from  the  mountain.  For  a  rod  or  two,  on  either 
side  of  its  channel,  the  trees  were  barked  and  splin- 
tered up  to  their  tops,  the  birches  bent  over,  twisted, 
and  sometimes  finely  split,  like  a  stable-broom;  some,' 
a  foot  in  diameter,  snapped  off,  and  whole  clumps 
of  trees  bent  over  with  the  weight  of  rocks  piled  on 
them.  In  one  place  we  noticed  a  rock,  two  or  three 
feet  in  diameter,  lodged  nearly  twenty  feet  high  in 
the  crotch  of  a  tree.  For  the  whole  four  miles  we  saw 
but  one  rill  emptying  in,  and  the  volume  of  water 
did  not  seem  to  be  increased  from  the  first.  At  one 
place  we  were  startled  by  seeing,  on  a  little  sandy 
shelf  by  the  side  of  the  stream,  the  fresh  print  of  a 
man's  foot;  but  at  last  we  remembered  that  we  had 
struck  this  stream  on  the  way  up,  and  one  had  de- 
scended into  the  ravine  for  a  drink. 

After  leaving  the  torrent,  being  in  doubt  about  our 
course,  Tom  threw  down  his  pack  at  the  foot  of  the 
loftiest  spruce  tree  at  hand,  and  shinned  up  the  bare 
trunk  some  twenty  feet,  and  then  climbed  through 
the  green  tower,  lost  to  our  sight,  until  he  held  the 
topmost  spray  in  his  hand.  "  Where  away  does  the 
summit  bear?  where  the  burnt  lands? "we  cried. 

The  last  he  could  only  conjecture ;  he  descried,  how- 
ever, a  little  meadow  and  pond,  lying  probably  in  our 


KATAHDIN  45 

course,  which  we  concluded  to  steer  for.  On  reaching 
this  secluded  meadow,  we  found  fresh  tracks  of  moose 
on  the  shore  of  the  pond,  and  the  water  was  still 
unsettled  as  if  they  had  fled  before  us.  A  little  far- 
ther, in  a  dense  thicket,  we  seemed  to  be  still  on  their 
trail.  Pursuing  this  course,  we  soon  reached  the  open 
land,  which  went  sloping  down  some  miles  toward 
the  Penobscot. 

Perhaps  I  most  fully  realized  that  this  was  primeval, 
untamed,  and  forever  untamable  Nature,  while  coming 
down  this  part  of  the  mountain.  We  were  passing 
over  "  Burnt  Lands,"  though  they  showed  no  recent 
marks  of  fire,  hardly  so  much  as  a  charred  stump, 
but  looked  rather  like  a  natural  pasture  for  the  moose 
and  deer,  exceedingly  wild  and  desolate,  with  occa- 
sional strips  of  timber  crossing  them,  and  low  poplars 
springing  up,  and  patches  of  blueberries  here  and 
there. 

Ere  long  we  recognized  some  rocks  and  other  features 
in  the  landscape,  and,  quickening  our  pace,  by  two 
o'clock  we  reached  the  bateau.  Here  we  had  expected 
to  dine  on  trout,  but  in  this  glaring  sunlight  they  were 
slow  to  take  the  bait,  so  we  were  compelled  to  make 
the  most  of  the  crumbs  of  our  hard-bread  and  our 
pork,  which  were  both  nearly  exhausted. 

About  four  o'clock,  the  same  afternoon,  we  com- 
menced our  return  voyage,  which  would  require  but 
little  if  any  poling.  In  shooting  rapids  the  boatmen 
use  large  and  broad  paddles,  instead  of  poles,  to  guide 
the  boat  with.  Though  we  glided  so  swiftly,  and  often 
smoothly,  down,  where  it  had  cost  us  no  slight  effort 
to  get  up,  our  present  voyage  was  attended  with  far  more 
danger,  for  if  we  fairly  struck  one  of  the  thousand 


46  KATAHDIN 

rocks  by  which  we  were  surrounded,  the  boat  would 
be  swamped  in  an  instant.  When  a  boat  is  swamped 
under  these  circumstances,  the  boatmen  commonly 
find  no  difficulty  in  keeping  afloat  at  first,  for  the  cur- 
rent keeps  both  them  and  their  cargo  up  for  a  long 
way  down  the  stream ;  and  if  they  can  swim,  they  have 
only  to  work  their  way  gradually  to  the  shore.  The 
greatest  danger  is  of  being  caught  in  an  eddy  behind 
some  large  rock,  and  being  carried  round  and  round 
under  the  surface  till  they  are  drowned.  McCauslin 
pointed  out  some  rocks  which  had  been  the  scene  of 
a  fatal  accident  of  this  kind.  Sometimes  the  body 
is  not  thrown  out  for  several  hours.  In  shooting  the 
rapids,  the  boatman  has  this  problem  to  solve:  to 
choose  a  safe  course  amid  a  thousand  sunken  rocks, 
scattered  over  a  quarter  or  half  a  mile,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  is  moving  steadily  on  at  the  rate  of  fifteen 
miles  an  hour.  Stop  he  cannot;  the  only  question  is, 
where  will  he  go  ?  The  bowman  chooses  the  course 
with  all  his  eyes  about  him,  striking  broad  off  with  his 
paddle,  and  drawing  the  boat  by  main  force  into  her 
course.  The  sternman  faithfully  follows  the  bow. 

We  were  soon  at  the  Aboljacarmegus  Falls.  Anxious 
to  avoid  the  delay,  as  well  as  the  labor,  of  the  portage 
here,  our  boatmen  went  forward  first  to  reconnoitre, 
and  concluded  to  let  the  bateau  down  the  falls,  carry- 
ing the  baggage  only  over  the  portage.  Jumping  from 
rock  to  rock  until  nearly  in  the  middle  of  the  stream, 
we  were  ready  to  receive  the  boat  arid  let  her  down 
over  the  first  fall,  some  six  or  seven  feet  perpendicular. 
The  boatmen  stand  upon  the  edge  of  a  shelf  of  rock 
in  from  one  to  two  feet  of  rapid  water,  one  on  each 
side  of  the  boat,  and  let  it  slide  gently  over,  till  the 


KATAHDIN  47 

bow  is  run  out  ten  or  twelve  feet  in  the  air ;  then,  let- 
ting it  drop  squarely,  while  one  holds  the  painter,  the 
other  leaps  in,  and  his  companion  following,  they  are 
whirled  down  the  rapids  to  a  new  fall,  or  to  smooth 
water.  In  a  very  few  minutes  they  had  accomplished 
a  passage  in  safety,  which  would  be  as  foolhardy  for 
the  unskillful  to  attempt  as  the  descent  of  Niagara 
itself. 

Having  carried  round  Pockwockomus  Falls,  our 
oars  soon  brought  us  to  the  Katepskonegan  *  Carry, 
where  we  decided  to  camp,  leaving  our  bateau  to  be 
carried  over  in  the  morning.  One  shoulder  of  each 
of  the  boatmen  showed  a  red  spot  as  large  as  one's 
hand,  worn  by  the  bateau  on  this  expedition;  and 
this  shoulder,  as  it  did  all  the  work,  was  perceptibly 
lower  than  its  fellow,  from  long  service. 

The  drivers  are  accustomed  to  work  in  the  cold 
water  in  the  spring,  rarely  ever  dry ;  and  if  one  falls  in 
all  over,  he  rarely  changes  his  clothes  till  night,  if 
then  even.  McCauslin  said  soberly  that  he  had  seen 
where  six  men  were  wholly  under  water  at  once,  at  a 
jam,  with  their  shoulders  to  handspikes.  If  the  log 
did  not  start,  then  they  had  to  put  out  their  heads 
to  breathe.  The  driver  works  as  long  as  he  can  see, 
from  dark  to  dark,  and  at  night  has  not  time  to  eat 
his  supper  and  dry  his  clothes  fairly,  before  he  is 
asleep  on  his  cedar  bed.  We  lay  that  night  on  the  very 
bed  made  by  such  a  party,  stretching  our  tent  over 
the  poles  which  were  still  standing,  but  re-shingling 
the  damp  and  faded  bed  with  fresh  leaves. 

In  the  morning  we  carried  our  boat  over    and 

1  Ka-tep-sko-ne'gan.   Now  commonly  called  Debsconeag  (deb-sko- 
neg'). 


48       •  KATAHDIN 

launched  it,  making  haste  lest  the  wind  should  rise. 
The  boatmen  ran  down  Passamagamet,  and  soon 
after  Ambejijis  Falls,  while  we  walked  round  with  the 
baggage.  We  made  a  hasty  breakfast  at  the  head  of 
Ambejijis  Lake,  on  the  remainder  of  our  pork,  and 
were  soon  rowing  across  its  smooth  surface,  under  a 
pleasant  sky,  the  mountain  being  now  clear  of  clouds 
in  the  northeast.  Taking  turns  at  the  oars,  we  shot 
rapidly  across  Deep  Cove,  the  foot  of  Pamadumcook, 
and  the  North  Twin,  at  the  rate  of  six  miles  an  hour, 
the  wind  not  being  high  enough  to  disturb  us,  and 
reached  the  Dam  at  noon.  The  boatmen  went  through 
one  of  the  log  sluices  in  the  bateau,  where  the  fall  was 
ten  feet  at  the  bottom,  and  took  us  in  below.  Here 
was  the  longest  rapid  in  our  voyage.  Now  amid  the 
eddies,  now  darting  to  this  side  of  the  stream,  now  to 
that,  gliding  swift  and  smooth  near  to  our  destruction, 
or  striking  broad  off  with  the  paddle  and  drawing 
the  boat  to  right  or  left  with  all  our  might,  in  order 
to  avoid  a  rock,  we  soon  ran  through  this  mile,  and 
floated  in  Quakish  Lake. 

After  such  a  voyage,  the  troubled  and  angry  waters, 
which  once  had  seemed  terrible  and  not  to  be  trifled 
with,  appeared  tamed  and  subdued ;  they  had  been 
bearded  and  worried  in  their  channels,  pricked  and 
whipped  into  submission  with  the  spike-pole  and  pad- 
dle, gone  through  and  through  with  impunity,  and  all 
their  spirit  and  their  danger  taken  out  of  them,  and 
the  most  swollen  and  impetuous  rivers  seemed  but 
playthings  henceforth.  I  began,  at  length,  to  under- 
stand the  boatman's  familiarity  with,  and  contempt 
for,  the  rapids.  "Those  Fowler  boys,"  said  Mrs.  Mc- 
Causlin,  "  are  perfect  ducks  for  the  water."  They  had 


KATAHDIN  49 

run  down  to  Lincoln,  according  to  her,  thirty  or  forty 
miles,  in  a  bateau,  in  the  night,  for  a  doctor,  when  it 
was  so  dark  they  could  not  see  a  rod  before  them, 
and  the  river  was  swollen  so  as  to  be  almost  a  con- 
tinuous rapid,  so  that  the  doctor  cried,  when  they 
brought  him  up  by  daylight,  "  Why,  Tom,  how  did  you 
see  to  steer?"  "We  did  n't  steer  much  —  only  kept 
her  straight."  And  yet  they  met  with  no  accident. 

When  we  reached  the  Millinocket  opposite  to  Tom's 
house,  and  were  waiting  for  his  folks  to  set  us  over,  — 
for  we  had  left  our  bateau  above  the  Grand  Falls,  — 
we  discovered  two  canoes,  with  two  men  in  each,  turning 
up  this  stream  from  Shad  Pond,  one  keeping  the  oppo- 
site side  of  a  small  island  before  us,  while  the  other  ap- 
proached the  side  where  we  were  standing,  examining 
the  banks  carefully  for  muskrats  as  they  came  along. 
The  last  proved  to  be  Louis  Neptune  and  his  com- 
panion, on  their  way  up  to  Chesuncook  after  moose; 
but  we  hardly  knew  them.  At  a  little  distance  they 
might  have  been  taken  for  Quakers,  with  their  broad- 
brimmed  hats,  and  overcoats  with  broad  capes,  seeking 
a  settlement  in  this  Sylvania  —  or,  nearer  at  hand,  for 
fashionable  gentlemen  the  morning  after  a  spree.  Met 
face  to  face,  these  Indians  in  their  native  woods  looked 
like  the  sinister  and  slouching  fellows  whom  you  meet 
picking  up  strings  and  paper  in  the  streets  of  a  city. 
There  is,  in  fact,  a  remarkable  and  unexpected  resem- 
blance between  the  degraded  savage  and  the  lowest 
classes  in  a  great  city.  The  one  is  no  more  a  child  of 
nature  than  the  other.  Neptune  at  first  was  only  anx- 
ious to  know  what  we  "kill,"  seeing  some  partridges 
in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  party,  but  we  had  assumed 
too  much  anger  to  permit  of  a  reply.  We  thought 


50  KATAHDIN 

Indians  had  some  honor  before.  But  —  "  Me  been 
sick.  Oh,  me  unwell  now.  You  make  bargain,  then 
me  go."  They  had  in  fact  been  delayed  by  a  drunken 
frolic,  and  had  not  yet  recovered  from  its  effects. 
They  had  some  young  musquash  in  their  canoes, 
which  they  dug  out  of  the  banks  with  a  hoe,  for  food. 
So  they  went  on  up  the  Millinocket,  and  we  kept  down 
the  bank  of  the  Penobscot,  leaving  Tom  at  his  home. 

Thus  a  man  shall  lead  his  life  away  here  on  the  edge 
of  the  wilderness,  in  a  new  world ;  shall  live,  as  it  were, 
in  the  primitive  age  of  the  world,  a  primitive  man. 
He  lives  three  thousand  years  deep  into  time.  Can 
you  well  go  further  back  in  history  than  this  ?  Ay ! 
ay !  —  for  there  turns  up  but  now  into  the  mouth  of 
Millinocket  Stream  a  still  more  ancient  and  primitive 
man.  In  a  bark  vessel  sewn  with  the  roots  of  the 
spruce,  with  hornbeam  paddles,  he  dips  his  way  along. 
He  builds  no  house  of  logs,  but  a  wigwam  of  skins. 
He  eats  no  hot  bread  and  sweet  cake,  but  musquash 
and  moose-meat  and  the  fat  of  bears.  He  glides  up 
the  Millinocket  and  is  lost  to  my  sight,  as  a  more  dis- 
tant and  misty  cloud  is  seen  flitting  by  behind  a  nearer, 
and  is  lost  in  space.  So  he  goes  about  his  destiny. 

After  having  passed  the  night,  and  buttered  our  boots 
for  the  last  time,  at  Uncle  George's,  whose  dogs  almost 
devoured  him  for  joy  at  his  return,  we  kept  on  down 
the  river  the  next  day  about  eight  miles  on  foot,  and 
then  took  a  bateau,  with  a  man  to  pole  it,  to  Matta- 
wamkeag,  ten  more.  At  the  middle  of  that  very  night, 
we  reached  Oldtown,  where  we  heard  the  confused 
din  and  clink  of  a  hundred  saws,  which  never  rest, 
and  at  six  o'clock  the  next  morning  one  of  the  party 
was  steaming  his  way  to  Massachusetts. 


KATAHDIN  51 

What  is  most  striking  in  the  Maine  wilderness  is  the 
continuousness  of  the  forest.  Except  the  burnt  lands, 
the  narrow  intervals  on  the  rivers,  the  bare  tops  of  the 
high  mountains,  and  the  lakes  and  streams,  the  forest 
is  uninterrupted.  It  is  even  more  grim  and  wild  than 
you  had  anticipated,  a  damp  and  intricate  wilderness. 
The  aspect  of  the  country,  indeed,  is  universally  stern 
and  savage,  excepting  the  distant  views  of  the  for- 
est from  hills,  and  the  lake  prospects.  The  lakes  are 
something  which  you  are  unprepared  for ;  they  lie  so 
exposed  to  the  light,  and  the  forest  is  diminished  to  a 
fine  fringe  on  their  edges.  These  are  riot  the  artificial 
forests  of  an  English  king.  Here  prevail  no  forest  laws 
but  those  of  nature.  The  aborigines  have  never  been 
dispossessed,  nor  nature  disforested. 

It  is  a  country  full  of  evergreen  trees,  of  silver  birches 
and  watery  maples,  the  ground  dotted  with  insipid 
small,  red  berries,  and  strewn  with  moss-grown  rocks 
—  a  country  diversified  with  innumerable  lakes  and 
rapid  streams,  peopled  with  trout,  salmon,  shad, 
pickerel,  and  other  fishes ;  the  forest  resounding  at  rare 
intervals  with  the  note  of  the  chickadee,  the  blue  jay, 
and  the  woodpecker,  the  scream  of  the  fish  hawk  and 
the  eagle,  the  laugh  of  the  loon,  and  the  whistle  of 
ducks  along  the  solitary  streams;  at  night,  with  the 
hooting  of  owls  and  howling  of  wolves;  in  summer, 
swarming  with  myriads  of  black  flies  and  mosquitoes, 
more  formidable  than  wolves  to  the  white  man.  Such 
is  the  home  of  the  moose,  the  bear,  the  caribou,  the 
wolf,  the  beaver,  and  the  Indian.  Who  shall  describe 
the  inexpressible  tenderness  and  immortal  life  of  the 
grim  forest,  where  the  decaying  trees  seem  to  enjoy  a 
perpetual  youth;  and  Nature,  like  a  serene  infant,  is 


52  KATAHDIN 

too  happy  to  make  a  noise,  except  by  a  few  tinkling, 
lisping  birds  and  trickling  rills? 

I  am  reminded  by  my  journey  how  exceedingly  new 
this  country  still  is.  We  have  advanced  by  leaps  to  the 
Pacific,  and  left  many  a  lesser  Oregon  and  California 
unexplored  behind  us.  Though  the  railroad  and  the 
telegraph  have  been  established  on  the  shores  of  Maine, 
the  Indian  still  looks  out  from  her  interior  mountains 
to  the  sea.  There  stands  the  city  of  Bangor,  fifty  miles 
up  the  Penobscot,  at  the  head  of  navigation,  the  prin- 
cipal lumber  depot  on  this  continent,  like  a  star  on  the 
edge  of  night,  still  hewing  at  the  forests  of  which  it 
is  built,  already  overflowing  with  the  luxuries  and  re- 
finement of  Europe,  and  sending  its  vessels  to  Spain, 
to  England,  and  to  the  West  Indies  for  its  groceries  — 
and  yet  only  a  few  axemen  have  gone  "  up  river,"  into 
the  howling  wilderness  which  feeds  it.  Twelve  miles 
in  the  rear  is  the  Indian  island,  the  home  of  the  Penob- 
scot tribe,  and  then  commence  the  bateau  and  the 
canoe ;  and  sixty  miles  above,  the  country  is  virtually 
unmapped  and  unexplored,  and  there  still  waves  the 
virgin  forest  of  the  New  World. 


CHESUNCOOK 

AT  five  P.  M.,  September  13, 1853, 1  left  Boston,  in  the 
steamer  for  Bangor.  It  was  a  warm  and  still  night, 
and  the  sea  was  as  smooth  as  a  small  lake  in  summer, 
merely  rippled.  The  passengers  went  singing  on  the 
deck  till  ten  o'clock.  Now  we  see  the  Cape  Ann  lights, 
and  now  pass  near  a  small  village-like  fleet  of  mackerel- 
fishers  at  anchor.  From  the  wonders  of  the  deep  we  go 
below  to  yet  deeper  sleep.  And  then  the  absurdity  of 
being  waked  up  in  the  night  by  a  man  who  wants  the 
job  of  blacking  your  boots!  I  trusted  that  these  old 
customs  were  abolished.  They  might  with  the  same 
propriety  insist  on  blacking  your  face.  I  heard  of  one 
man  who  complained  that  somebody  had  stolen  his 
boots  in  the  night ;  and  when  he  had  found  them,  he 
wanted  to  know  what  they  had  done  to  them  —  they 
had  spoiled  them  —  he  never  put  that  stuff  on  them ; 
and  the  bootblack  narrowly  escaped  paying  damages. 

Anxious  to  get  out  of  tha  whale's  belly,  I  rose  early, 
and  joined  some  old  salts  who  were  smoking  by  a  dim 
light  on  a  sheltered  part  of  the  deck.  I  was  proud 
to  find  that  I  had  stood  the  voyage  so  well.  We 
watched  the  first  signs  of  dawn  through  an  open  port ; 
but  the  day  seemed  to  hang  fire.  At  length  an  Afri- 
can prince  rushed  by,  observing,  "Twelve  o'clock, 
gentlemen!"  and  blew  out  the  light.  It  was  moon- 
rise.  So  I  slunk  down  into  the  monster's  bowels 
again. 

We  reached  Bangor  about  noon.   When  I  arrived, 


54  CHESUNCOOK 

my  companion  that  was  to  be  had  gone  up  river,  and 
engaged  an  Indian,  Joe  Aitteon,  a  son  of  the  Governor, 
to  go  with  us  to  Chesuncook  Lake.  Joe  arrived  by  cars 
at  Bangor  that  evening,  with  his  canoe  and  a  compan- 
ion who  was  going  to  join  him  in  moose-hunting  at 
Chesuncook  when  we  had  done  with  him.  They  took 
supper  at  my  friend's  house  and  lodged  in  his  barn. 

The  next  morning,  Joe  and  his  canoe  were  put  on 
board  the  stage  for  Moosehead  Lake,  sixty  and  odd 
miles  distant,  an  hour  before  we  started  in  an  open 
wagon.  We  carried  hard-bread,  pork,  smoked  beef, 
tea,  sugar,  etc.,  seemingly  enough  for  a  regiment. 

It  rained  all  day  and  till  the  middle  of  the  next  fore- 
noon, concealing  the  landscape  almost  entirely ;  but  we 
had  hardly  got  out  of  the  streets  of  Bangor  before  I 
began  to  be  exhilarated  by  the  sight  of  the  wild  fir  and 
spruce  tops,  and  those  of  other  primitive  evergreens, 
peering  through  the  mist  in  the  horizon.  It  was  like 
the  sight  and  odor  of  cake  to  a  schoolboy. 

He  who  rides  and  keeps  the  beaten  track  studies  the 
fences  chiefly.  Near  Bangor,  the  fence-posts,  on  ac- 
count of  the  frost's  heaving  them  in  the  clayey  soil, 
were  not  planted  in  the  ground,  but  were  mortised  into 
a  beam  lying  on  the  surface.  Afterwards  the  prevailing 
fences  were  log  ones,  with  sometimes  a  Virginia  fence, 
or  else  rails  slanted  over  crossed  stakes  ;  and  these 
zigzagged  or  played  leap-frog  all  the  way  to  the  lake, 
keeping  just  ahead  of  us.  The  houses  were  far  apart, 
commonly  small  and  of  one  story.  There  was  very 
little  land  under  cultivation,  yet  the  forest  did  not  often 
border  the  road.  We  saw  large  flocks  of  pigeons,  and 
several  times  came  within  a  rod  or  two  of  partridges  in 
the  road.  My  companion  said  that  in  one  journey  out 


CHESUNCOOK  55 

of  Bangor  he  and  his  son  had  shot  sixty  partridges 
from  his  buggy. 

The  mountain-ash  was  now  very  handsome,  as  also 
the  hobble-bush,  with  its  ripe  purple  berries  mixed 
with  red.  The  Canada  thistle  was  the  prevailing 
weed,  the  roadside  in  many  places,  and  fields  not  long 
cleared,  being  densely  filled  with  it  as  with  a  crop,  to 
the  exclusion  of  everything  else.  There  were  also 
whole  fields  full  of  ferns,  now  rusty  and  withering. 
There  were  many  late  buttercups,  and  fire-weed  com- 
monly where  there  had  been  a  burning,  and  the  pearly 
everlasting.  I  noticed  occasionally  very  long  troughs 
which  supplied  the  road  with  water,  and  my  compan- 
ion said  that  three  dollars  annually  were  granted  by 
the  State  to  one  man  in  each  school-district,  who 
provided  and  maintained  a  suitable  water-trough  by 
the  roadside  for  the  use  of  travelers.  Maine  is  banish- 
ing bar-rooms  from  its  highways  and  conducting  the 
mountain  springs  thither. 

At  a  fork  in  the  road  about  twenty  miles  from  Moose- 
head  Lake,  I  saw  a  guide-post  surmounted  by  a  pair 
of  moose-horns,  with  the  word  "Monson"  painted 
on  one  blade,  and  the  name  of  some  other  town  on  the 
other.  They  are  sometimes  used  for  ornamental  hat- 
trees,  in  front  entries.  We  reached  Monson  after  dark. 

At  four  o'clock  the  next  morning,  still  in  the  rain, 
we  pursued  our  journey.  In  many  places  the  road 
was  in  that  condition  called  repaired,  having  just  been 
whittled  into  the  required  semi-cylindrical  form  with 
the  shovel  and  scraper,  with  all  the  softest  inequalities 
in  the  middle,  like  a  hog's  back  with  the  bristles  up. 
As  you  looked  off  each  side  of  the  bare  sphere  into 
the  horizon,  the  ditches  were  awful  to  behold. 


50  CHESUNCOOK 

At  a  tavern  hereabouts  the  hostler  greeted  our  horse 
as  an  old  acquaintance,  though  he  did  not  remember 
the  driver.  He  said  that  he  had  taken  care  of  that 
little  mare  for  a  short  time  a  year  or  two  before  at  the 
Mount  Kineo l  House,  and  thought  she  was  not  in  as 
good  condition  as  then.  Every  man  to  his  trade.  I  am 
not  acquainted  with  a  single  horse  in  the  world,  not 
even  the  one  that  kicked  me. 

We  got  our  first  view  of  Moosehead  Lake  —  a 
suitably  wild-looking  sheet  of  water,  sprinkled  with 
small,  low  islands,  which  were  covered  with  shaggy 
spruce  and  other  wild  wood  —  seen  over  the  infant 
port  of  Greenville.  There  was  no  summer  road  any 
farther  in  this  direction,  but  a  winter  road,  that  is,  one 
passable  only  when  deep  snow  covers  its  inequalities, 
up  the  east  side  of  the  lake  about  twelve  miles. 

I  was  here  first  introduced  to  Joe.  He  had  ridden 
all  the  way  on  the  outside  of  the  stage,  the  day  before, 
in  the  rain,  and  was  well  wetted.  He  was  a  good- 
looking  Indian,  twenty-four  years  old,  short  and  stout, 
with  a  broad  face  and  reddish  complexion.  He  had 
worked  a  good  deal  as  a  lumberman. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  steamer,  with  her  bell  and 
whistle,  scaring  the  moose,  summoned  us  on  board. 
She  is  chiefly  used  by  lumberers  for  the  transportation 
of  themselves,  their  boats,  and  supplies.  There  were 
but  few  passengers :  a  St.  Francis  Indian,  two  explorers 
for  lumber,  three  men  who  landed  at  Sandbar  Island, 
and  a  gentleman  who  lives  on  Deer  Island,  eleven 
miles  up  the  lake ;  these,  I  think,  were  all  beside  our- 
selves. 

The  lake  is  much  broken  by  islands,  and  the  scenery 
1  Kin'e-o. 


CHESTJNCOOK  57 

is  varied  and  interesting.  Mountains  were  seen  on  all 
sides  but  the  northwest,  their  summits  now  lost  in  the 
clouds.  You  see  but  three  or  four  houses  for  the  whole 
length  of  the  lake,  or  about  forty  miles,  and  the  shore 
is  an  unbroken  wilderness.  The  prevailing  wood 
seemed  to  be  spruce,  fir,  birch,  and  rock  maple.  You 
could  easily  distinguish  the  hard  wood  from  the  soft, 
or  "  black  growth,"  as  it  is  called,  at  a  great  distance, 
the  former  being  smooth,  round-topped,  and  light 
green,  with  a  bowery  and  cultivated  look. 

Mount  Kineo,  at  which  the  boat  touched,  is  a 
peninsula  with  a  narrow  neck,  about  midway  the  lake 
on  the  east  side.  The  precipice  on  the  land  side  of  this 
is  so  high  and  perpendicular  that  you  can  jump  from 
the  top,  many  hundred  feet,  into  the  water,  which 
makes  up  behind  the  point. 

We  reached  the  head  of  the  lake  about  noon.  The 
weather  had  in  the  meanwhile  cleared,  though  the 
mountains  were  still  capped  with  clouds.  The  steamer 
here  approached  a  long  pier  projecting  from  the 
northern  wilderness,  and  built  of  some  of  its  logs, 
and  whistled,  where  not  a  cabin  nor  a  mortal  was  to 
be  seen.  At  length  a  Mr.  Hinckley,  who  has  a  camp 
at  the  other  end  of  the  "  carry,"  appeared  with  a 
truck  drawn  by  an  ox  and  a  horse  over  a  rude  log-rail- 
way through  the  woods.  The  next  thing  was  to  get 
our  canoe  and  effects  over  the  carry  into  the  Penobscot 
River.  This  railway  from  the  lake  to  the  river  occu- 
pied the  middle  of  a  clearing  two  or  three  rods  wide 
and  perfectly  straight  through  the  forest.  We  walked 
across  while  our  baggage  was  drawn  behind. 

There  was  a  very  slight  rise  above  the  lake  and  at 
length  a  gradual  descent  to  the  Penobscot,  which  I 


58  CHESUNCOOK 

was  surprised  to  find  here  a  large  stream  from  twelve 
to  fifteen  rods  wide. 

At  the  north  end  of  the  carry,  in  the  midst  of  a 
clearing  of  sixty  acres  or  more,  there  was  a  log  camp 
with  a  house  adjoining,  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
carry-man's  family  and  passing  lumberers. 

We  now  proceeded  to  get  our  dinner  and  to  pitch 
the  canoe.  Joe  took  a  small  brand  from  the  fire  and 
blew  the  heat  and  flame  against  the  pitch  on  his 
birch,  and  so  melted  and  spread  it.  Sometimes  he  put 
his  mouth  over  the  suspected  spot  and  sucked,  to  see 
if  it  admitted  air ;  and  at  one  place  where  we  stopped 
he  set  his  canoe  high  on  crossed  stakes,  and  poured 
water  into  it.  I  heard  him  swear  once,  during  this 
operation,  about  his  knife  being  as  dull  as  a  hoe. 

At  mid-afternoon  we  embarked.  Our  birch  was 
nineteen  and  a  half  feet  long  by  two  and  a  half  at  the 
widest  part,  and  fourteen  inches  deep,  and  painted 
green.  This  carried  us  three  with  our  baggage.  We 
had  two  heavy,  though  slender,  rock-maple  paddles. 
Joe  placed  birch-bark  on  the  bottom  for  us  to  sit  on, 
and  slanted  cedar  splints  against  the  cross-bars  to  pro- 
tect our  backs,  while  he  himself  sat  upon  a  cross-bar 
in  the  stern.  The  baggage  occupied  the  middle  of  the 
canoe.  We  also  paddled  by  turns  in  the  bows,  now 
sitting  with  our  legs  extended,  now  sitting  upon  our 
legs,  and  now  rising  upon  our  knees ;  but  I  found  none 
of  these  positions  endurable,  and  was  reminded  of  the 
complaints  of  the  old  Jesuit  missionaries  of  the  torture 
they  endured  from  long  confinement  in  constrained 
positions  in  canoes,  in  their  voyages  from  Quebec  to 
the  Huron  country ;  but  afterwards  I  sat  on  the  cross- 
bars, or  stood  up,  and  experienced  no  inconvenience. 


CHESUNCOOK  59 

It  was  deadwater  for  a  couple  of  miles.  The 
river  had  been  raised  about  two  feet  by  the  rain,  and 
lumberers  were  hoping  for  a  flood  sufficient  to  bring 
down  the  logs  that  were  left  in  the  spring.  Its  banks 
were  seven  or  eight  feet  high  and  densely  covered 
with  spruce,  fir,  arbor-vitse,  birch,  maple,  beech,  ash, 
aspen,  many  civil-looking  elms,  now  imbrowned, 
along  the  stream,  and  at  first  a  few  hemlocks.  The 
immediate  shores  were  also  densely  covered  with 
alder,  willows,  and  the  like.  There  were  a  few  lily-pads 
along  the  sides.  Many  fresh  tracks  of  moose  were 
visible  where  the  water  was  shallow  and  on  the  shore, 
and  the  lily-stems  were  freshly  bitten  off  by  them. 

After  paddling  about  two  miles,  we  turned  up 
Lobster  Stream,  which  comes  in  from  the  southeast. 
Joe  said  that  it  was  so  called  from  small  fresh-water 
lobsters  found  in  it.  My  companion  wished  to  look 
for  moose  signs,  and  intended,  if  it  proved  worth  the 
while,  to  camp  up  that  way.  The  kingfisher  flew  be- 
fore us,  the  pigeon  woodpecker  was  seen  and  heard, 
and  nuthatches  and  chickadees  close  at  hand.  We 
saw  a  pair  of  moose-horns  on  the  shore,  and  I  asked 
Joe  if  a  moose  had  shed  them ;  but  he  said  there  was 
a  head  attached  to  them,  and  I  knew  that  they  did  not 
shed  their  heads  more  than  once  in  their  lives. 

After  ascending  about  a  mile  and  a  half,  we  re- 
turned to  the  Penobscot.  Just  below  the  mouth  of 
the  Lobster  we  found  quick  water,  and  the  river  ex- 
panded to  twenty  or  thirty  rods  in  width.  The  moose- 
tracks  were  quite  numerous  and  fresh  here.  We 
noticed  in  a  great  many  places  narrow  and  well-trod- 
den paths  by  which  they  had  come  down  to  the  river, 
and  where  they  had  slid  on  the  steep  and  clayey  bank. 


60  CHESUNCOOK 

Their  tracks  were  either  close  to  the  edge  of  the  stream 
or  in  shallow  water ;  the  holes  made  by  their  feet  in  the 
soft  bottom  being  visible  for  a  long  time.  They  were 
particularly  numerous  where  there  was  a  small  bay 
bordered  by  a  strip  of  meadow,  or  separated  from  the 
river  by  a  low  peninsula  covered  with  grass,  wherein 
they  had  waded  back  and  forth  and  eaten  the  pads. 
At  one  place,  where  we  landed  to  pick  up  a  duck, 
which  my  companion  had  shot,  Joe  peeled  a  canoe 
birch  for  bark  for  his  hunting-horn.  He  then  asked  if 
we  were  not  going  to  get  the  other  duck,  for  his  sharp 
eyes  had  seen  another  fall  in  the  bushes  a  little  farther 
along,  and  my  companion  obtained  it. 

We  reached,  about  sundown,  a  small  island  at  the 
head  of  what  Joe  called  the  Moosehorn  Deadwater 
(the  Moosehorn,  in  which  he  was  going  to  hunt  that 
night,  coming  in  about  three  miles  below), and  on  the 
upper  end  of  this  we  decided  to  camp.  After  clearing 
a  small  space  amid  the  dense  spruce  and  fir  trees,  we 
covered  the  damp  ground  with  a  shingling  of  fir-twigs, 
and,  while  Joe  was  preparing  his  birch  horn  and  pitch- 
ing his  canoe,  —  for  this  had  to  be  done  whenever 
we  stopped  long  enough  to  build  a  fire,  and  was  the 
principal  labor  he  took  upon  himself  at  such  times, 
— we  collected  fuel  for  the  night,  large  wet  and  rotting 
logs,  which  had  lodged  at  the  head  of  the  island,  for 
our  hatchet  was  too  small  for  effective  chopping;  but 
we  did  not  kindle  a  fire  lest  the  moose  should  smell  it. 
Joe  set  up  a  couple  of  forked  stakes,  and  prepared 
half  a  dozen  poles,  ready  to  cast  one  of  our  blankets 
over  in  case  it  rained  in  the  night.  We  also  plucked 
the  ducks  which  had  been  killed  for  breakfast. 

While  we  were  thus  engaged  in  the  twilight,  we 


CHESUNCOOK  61 

heard  faintly  from  far  down  the  stream,  what  sounded 
like  two  strokes  of  a  woodchopper's  axe,  echoing  dully 
through  the  grim  solitude.  When  we  told  Joe  of  this 
he  exclaimed,  " By  George,  I'll  bet  that  was  a  moose! 
They  make  a  noise  like  that." 

At  starlight  we  dropped  down  the  stream  as  far  as 
the  Moosehorn,  Joe  telling  us  that  we  must  be  very 
silent,  and  he  himself  making  no  noise  with  his  paddle 
while  he  urged  the  canoe  along  with  effective  impulses. 
It  was  a  still  night  and  suitable  for  this  purpose, — 
for  if  there  is  wind  the  moose  will  smell  you,  —  and 
Joe  was  very  confident  that  he  should  get  some.  The 
harvest  moon  had  just  risen,  and  its  level  rays  began 
to  light  up  the  forest  on  our  right,  while  we  glided 
downward  in  the  shade  on  the  same  side,  against  the 
little  breeze  that  was  stirring.  The  lofty,  spiring  tops 
of  the  spruce  and  fir  were  very  black  against  the  sky, 
close  bordering  this  broad  avenue  on  each  side;  and 
the  beauty  of  the  scene,  as  the  moon  rose  above  the 
forest,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  describe.  A  bat  flew  over 
our  heads,  arid  we  heard  a  few  faint  notes  of  birds 
from  time  to  time,  or  the  sudden  plunge  of  a  musquash, 
or  saw  one  crossing  the  stream  before  us,  or  heard  the 
sound  of  a  rill  emptying  in,  swollen  by  the  recent  rain. 
About  a  mile  below  the  island,  when  the  solitude 
seemed  to  be  growing  more  complete  every  moment, 
we  suddenly  saw  the  light  and  heard  the  crackling  of 
a  fire  on  the  bank,  and  discovered  the  camp  of  the  two 
explorers;  they  standing  before  it  in  their  red  shirts 
and  talking  of  the  adventures  of  the  day.  We  glided 
by  without  speaking,  close  under  the  bank,  within  a 
couple  of  rods  of  them ;  and  Joe,  taking  his  horn,  imi- 
tated the  call  of  the  moose,  till  we  suggested  that  they 


62  CHESUNCOOK 

might  fire  on  us.  This  was  the  last  we  saw  of  them, 
and  we  never  knew  whether  they  detected  or  sus- 
pected us. 

I  have  often  wished  since  that  I  was  with  them. 
They  search  for  timber  over  a  given  section,  climbing 
hills  and  often  high  trees  to  look  off  ;  explore  the 
streams  by  which  it  is  to  be  driven,  and  the  like;  spend 
five  or  six  weeks  in  the  woods,  they  two  alone,  a  hun- 
dred miles  or  more  from  any  town,  roaming  about,  and 
sleeping  on  the  ground  where  night  overtakes  them, 
depending  chiefly  on  the  provisions  they  carry  with 
them,  though  they  do  not  decline  what  game  they 
come  across;  and  then  in  the  fall  they  return  and 
make  report  to  their  employers.  Experienced  men  get 
three  or  four  dollars  a  day  for  this  work.  It  is  a  solitary 
and  adventurous  life. 

This  discovery  accounted  for  the  sounds  we  had 
heard,  and  destroyed  the  prospect  of  seeing  moose 
yet  awhile.  At  length,  when  we  had  left  the  explorers 
far  behind,  Joe  laid  down  his  paddle,  drew  forth  his 
birch  horn,  —  a  straight  one  about  fifteen  inches  long 
and  three  or  four  wide  at  the  mouth,  tied  round  with 
strips  of  the  same  bark,  —  and,  standing  up,  imitated 
the  call  of  the  moose  —  ugh-ugh-ugh,  or  oo-oo-oo-oo, 
and  then  a  prolonged  oo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o,  and  listened 
attentively  for  several  minutes.  We  asked  him  what 
kind  of  noise  he  expected  to  hear.  He  said  that  if 
a  moose  heard  it,  he  guessed  we  should  find  out ;  we 
should  hear  him  coming  half  a  mile  off ;  he  would  come 
close  to,  perhaps  into,  the  water,  and  my  companion 
must  wait  till  he  got  fair  sight,  and  then  aim  just 
behind  the  shoulder. 

The  moose  venture  out  to  the  riverside  to  feed  and 


CHESUNCOOK  63 

drink  at  night.  Earlier  in  the  season  the  hunters  do 
not  use  a  horn  to  call  them  out,  but  steal  upon  them 
as  they  are  feeding  along  the  sides  of  the  stream,  and 
often  the  first  notice  they  have  of  one  is  the  sound  of 
the  water  dropping  from  its  muzzle.  An  Indian  whom 
I  heard  imitate  the  voice  of  the  moose,  and  also  that 
of  the  caribou  and  the  deer,  using  a  much  longer 
horn  than  Joe's,  told  me  that  the  first  could  be  heard 
eight  or  ten  miles,  sometimes;  it  was  a  loud  sort  of 
bellowing  sound,  clearer  and  more  sonorous  than  the 
lowing  of  cattle,  the  caribou's  a  sort  of  snort,  and  the 
small  deer's  like  that  of  a  lamb. 

At  length  we  turned  up  the  Moosehorn.  This  is  a 
very  meandering  stream,  only  a  rod  or  two  in  width, 
but  comparatively  deep,  fitly  enough  named  Moose- 
horn,  whether  from  its  windings  or  its  inhabitants. 
It  was  bordered  here  and  there  by  narrow  meadows 
between  the  stream  and  the  endless  forest,  affording 
favorable  places  for  the  moose  to  feed,  and  to  call 
them  out  on.  We  proceeded  half  a  mile  up  this,  as 
through  a  narrow,  winding  canal,  where  the  tall,  dark 
spruce  and  firs  and  arbor-vitae  towered  on  both  sides 
in  the  moonlight,  forming  a  perpendicular  forest-edge 
of  great  height.  In  two  places  stood  a  small  stack  of 
hay  on  the  bank,  ready  for  the  lumberer's  use  in  the 
winter,  looking  strange  enough  there. 

Again  and  again  Joe  called  the  moose,  placing  the 
canoe  close  by  some  favorable  point  of  meadow,  but 
listened  in  vain  to  hear  one  come  rushing  through  the 
woods,  and  concluded  that  they  had  been  hunted  too 
much  thereabouts.  We  saw,  many  times,  what  to  our 
imaginations  looked  like  a  gigantic  moose,  with  his 
horns,  peering  from  out  the  forest-edge,  but  we  saw 


64  CHESUNCOOK 

the  forest  only,  and  not  its  inhabitants,  that  night.  So 
at  last  we  turned  about.  There  was  now  a  little  fog 
on  the  water,  though  it  was  a  fine  clear  night  above. 
Several  times  we  heard  the  hooting  of  a  great  horned 
owl,  and  told  Joe  that  he  would  call  out  the  moose  for 
him,  for  he  made  a  sound  considerably  like  the  horn. 
But  Joe  answered  that  the  moose  had  heard  that  sound 
a  thousand  times  and  knew  better;  and  oftener  still 
we  were  startled  by  the  plunge  of  a  musquash.  Once, 
when  we  were  listening  for  moose,  we  heard  come 
faintly  echoing  from  far  through  the  moss-clad  aisles 
a  dull,  dry,  rushing  sound  with  a  solid  core  to  it,  yet 
as  if  half  smothered  under  the  grasp  of  the  luxu- 
riant and  fungus-like  forest,  like  the  shutting  of  a  door 
in  some  distant  entry  of  the  damp  and  shaggy  wilder- 
ness. When  we  asked  Joe  in  a  whisper  what  it  was, 
he  answered,  "Tree  fall." 

There  is  something  singularly  grand  and  impressive 
in  the  sound  of  a  tree  falling  in  a  perfectly  calm  night 
like  this,  as  if  the  agencies  which  overthrow  it  did  not 
need  to  be  excited,  but  worked  with  a  subtle,  deliberate, 
and  conscious  force,  like  a  boa-constrictor,  and  more 
effectively  then  than  even  in  a  windy  day.  If  there  is 
any  such  difference,  perhaps  it  is  because  trees  with  the 
dews  of  the  night  on  them  are  heavier  than  by  day. 

Having  reached  the  camp,  about  ten  o'clock,  we 
kindled  our  fire  and  went  to  bed.  Each  of  us  had 
a  blanket,  in  which  he  lay  on  the  fir-twigs  with  his 
extremities  toward  the  fire.  It  was  worth  the  while 
to  lie  down  in  a  country  where  you  could  afford  such 
great  fires.  We  had  first  rolled  up  a  large  log,  some 
eighteen  inches  through  and  ten  feet  long,  for  a  back- 
log, to  last  all  night,  and  then  piled  on  the  trees  to  the 


CHESUNCOOK  65 

height  of  three  or  four  feet,  no  matter  how  green  or 
damp.  In  fact,  we  burned  as  much  wood  that  night 
as  would,  with  economy  and  an  air-tight  stove,  last  a 
poor  family  in  one  of  our  cities  all  winter.  It  was  very 
agreeable,  as  well  as  independent,  thus  lying  in  the 
open  air,  and  the  fire  kept  our  uncovered  extremities 
warm  enough.  The  Jesuit  missionaries  used  to  say 
that  in  their  journeys  with  the  Indians  in  Canada  they 
lay  on  a  bed  which  had  never  been  shaken  up  since  the 
creation,  unless  by  earthquakes.  It  is  surprising  with 
what  impunity  and  comfort  one  who  has  always  lain 
in  a  warm  bed  in  a  close  apartment,  and  studiously 
avoided  draughts  of  air,  can  lie  down  on  the  ground 
without  a  shelter,  roll  himself  in  a  blanket,  and  sleep 
before  a  fire,  in  a  frosty  autumn  night,  just  after  a 
long  rain-storm,  and  even  come  to  enjoy  and  value 
the  fresh  air.  ' 

I  lay  awake  awhile,  watching  the  ascent  of  the 
sparks  through  the  firs,  and  sometimes  their  descent 
in  half-extinguished  cinders  on  my  blanket.  They  were 
as  interesting  as  fireworks,  going  up  in  endless,  suc- 
cessive crowds,  each  after  an  explosion,  in  an  eager, 
serpentine  course,  some  to  five  or  six  rods  above  the 
treetops  before  they  went  out. 

When  we  awoke  in  the  morning,  there  was  consid- 
erable frost  whitening  the  leaves.  We  heard  the  sound 
of  the  chickadee  and  a  few  faintly  lisping  birds,  and 
also  of  ducks  in  the  water  about  the  island. 

Before  the  fog  had  fairly  cleared  away,  we  paddled 
down  the  stream  again.  These  twenty  miles  of  the 
Penobscot  between  Moosehead  and  Chesuncook  lakes 
are  comparatively  smooth,  but  from  time  to  time  the 
water  is  shallow  and  rapid,  with  rocks  or  gravel-beds 


66  CHESUNCOOK 

where  you  can  wade  across.  I  looked  very  narrowly 
at  the  vegetation  as  we  glided  along  close  to  the  shore, 
and  frequently  made  Joe  turn  aside  for  me  to  pluck  a 
plant.  Horehound,  horsemint,  and  the  sensitive  fern 
grew  close  to  the  edge,  under  the  willows  and  alders 
and  wool-grass  on  the  islands.  It  was  too  late  for 
flowers,  except  a  few  asters,  goldenrods,  etc.  In  sev- 
eral places  we  noticed  the  slight  frame  of  a  camp  amid 
the  forest  by  the  riverside,  where  some  lumberers  or 
hunters  had  passed  a  night,  and  sometimes  steps  cut 
in  the  muddy  or  clayey  bank  in  front  of  it. 

We  stopped  to  fish  for  trout  at  the  mouth  of  a  small 
stream  called  Ragmuff.  Here  were  the  ruins  of  an  old 
lumbering-camp,  and  a  small  space  which  had  for- 
merly been  cleared  and  burned  over  was  now  densely 
overgrown  with  the  red  cherry  and  raspberries.  While 
we  were  trying  for  trout,  Joe  wande'red  off  up  the 
Ragmuff  on  his  own  errands,  and  when  we  were  ready 
to  start,  was  far  beyond  call.  So  we  were  compelled  to 
make  a  fire  and  get  our  dinner  here,  not  to  lose  time. 
Some  dark-reddish  birds,  with  grayer  females,  and 
myrtle-birds  hopped  within  six  or  eight  feet  of  us  and 
our  smoke.  Perhaps  they  smelled  the  frying  pork. 
They  suggested  that  the  few  small  birds  found  in  the 
wilderness  are  on  more  familiar  terms  with  the  lumber- 
man and  hunter  than  those  of  the  orchard  and  clearing 
with  the  farmer.  I  have  since  found  the  Canada  jay 
and  partridges  equally  tame  there,  as  if  they  had  not 
yet  learned  to  mistrust  man  entirely. 

Joe  at  length  returned,  after  an  hour  and  a  half,  and 
said  that  he  had  been  two  miles  up  the  stream  explor- 
ing and  had  seen  a  moose.  As  we  continued  down 
the  stream  I  asked  him  how  the  ribs  of  the  canoe 


CHESUNCOOK  67 

were  fastened  to  the  side  rails.  He  answered,  "  I  don't 
know,  I  never  noticed." 

Talking  with  him  about  subsisting  wholly  on  what 
the  woods  yielded, — game,  fish,  berries,  etc.,  —  I  sug- 
gested that  his  ancestors  did  so;  but  he  answered  that 
he  had  been  brought  up  in  such  a  way  that  he  could 
not  do  it.  "Yes,"  said  he,  "that's  the  way  they  got 
a  living,  like  wild  fellows,  wild  as  bears.  By  George ! 
I  shan't  go  into  the  woods  without  provision  —  hard- 
bread,  pork,  etc."  He  had  brought  on  a  barrel  of 
hard-bread  and  stored  it  at  the  carry  for  his  hunting. 
However,  though  he  was  a  Governor's  son,  he  had  not 
learned  to  read. 

My  eyes  were  all  the  while  on  the  trees,  distinguish- 
ing between  the  black  and  white  spruce  and  the  fir. 
You  paddle  along  in  a  narrow  canal  through  an  end- 
less forest,  and  the  vision  I  have  in  my  mind's  eye,  still, 
is  of  the  small,  dark,  and  sharp  tops  of  tall  fir  and 
spruce  trees,  and  pagoda-like  arbor-vitses,  crowded 
together  on  each  side,  with  various  hard  woods  inter- 
mixed. At  one  place  we  saw  a  small  grove  of  slen- 
der sapling  white  pines,  the  only  collection  of  pines 
that  I  saw  on  this  voyage.  Here  and  there,  however, 
was  a  full-grown,  tall,  and  slender,  but  defective 
one.  All  the  rest  of  the  pines  had  been  driven  off. 

How  far  men  go  for  the  material  of  their  houses ! 
The  inhabitants  of  the  most  civilized  cities,  in  all  ages, 
send  into  far,  primitive  forests,  beyond  the  bounds  of 
their  civilization,  where  the  moose  and  bear  and  sav- 
age dwell,  for  their  pine  boards.  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  savage  soon  receives  from  cities  iron  arrow- 
points,  hatchets,  and  guns,  to  point  his  savageness 
with. 


68  CHESUNCOOK 

The  solid  and  well-defined  fir-tops,  like  sharp  and 
regular  spearheads,  black  against  the  sky,  gave  a  pe- 
culiar dark  and  sombre  look  to  the  forest.  The  spruce- 
tops  have  a  similar  but  more  ragged  outline.  I  was 
struck  by  this  universal  spiring  upward  of  the  forest 
evergreens.  Not  only  the  spruce  and  fir,  but  even  the 
arbor-vitse  and  white  pine,  all  spire  upwards,  lifting 
a  dense  spearhead  of  cones  to  the  light  and  air,  while 
their  branches  straggle  after  as  they  may. 

About  six  miles  below  Ragmuff  we  turned  up  a 
small  branch  called  Pine  Stream  to  look  for  moose 
signs.  We  soon  reached  a  small  meadow  which  was 
for  the  most  part  densely  covered  with  alders.  As  we 
were  advancing  along  the  edge  of  this,  I  heard  a  slight 
crackling  of  twigs  deep  in  the  alders,  and  turned  Joe's 
attention  to  it ;  whereupon  he  began  to  push  the  canoe 
back  rapidly.  We  had  receded  thus  half  a  dozen  rods 
when  we  spied  two  moose  standing  just  on  the  edge  of 
the  open  part  of  the  meadow  which  we  had  passed,  not 
more  than  six  or  seven  rods  distant,  looking  round 
the  alders'  at  us.  They  made  me  think  of  rabbits, 
with  their  long  ears  and  half-inquisitive,  half-fright- 
ened looks,  the  true  denizens  of  the  forest,  filling  a 
vacuum  which  now  first  I  discovered  had  not  been 
filled  for  me. 

Our  Nimrod  hastily  stood  up,  and,  while  we  ducked, 
fired  over  our  heads  one  barrel  at  the  foremost ;  where- 
upon this  one  dashed  across  the  meadow  and  up  a  high 
bank.  At  the  same  instant  the  other,  a  young  one,  but 
as  tall  as  a  horse,  leaped  out  into  the  stream  in  full 
sight,  and  there  stood  for  a  moment  and  uttered  two 
or  three  trumpeting  squeaks.  The  second  barrel  was 
leveled  at  the  calf,  and  when  we  expected  to  see  it  drop, 


A   LOGGERS     CAMP 


A   COW    MOOSE 


CHESUNCOOK  69 

after  a  little  hesitation  it,  too,  got  out  of  the  water,  and 
dashed  up  the  hill.  From  the  style  in  which  they  went 
off,  and  the  fact  that  our  hunter  was  not  used  to  stand- 
ing up  and  firing  from  a  canoe,  I  judged  that  we  should 
not  see  anything  more  of  them.  The  Indian  said  that 
they  were  a  cow  and  her  calf  —  a  yearling,  or  perhaps 
two  years  old.  It  was  but  two  or  three  rods  across  the 
meadow  to  the  foot  of  the  bank,  which,  like  all  the 
world  thereabouts,  was  densely  wooded ;  but  as  soon 
as  the  moose  had  passed  beyond  the  veil  of  the  woods 
there  was  no  sound  of  footsteps  to  be  heard  from  the 
soft,  damp  moss  which  carpets  that  forest,  and  long 
before  we  landed  perfect  silence  reigned.  Joe  said, 
"If  you  wound  'em  moose,  me  sure  get  'em." 

We  all  landed  at  once.  My  companion  reloaded ;  the 
Indian  fastened  his  birch,  threw  off  his  hat,  adjusted 
his  waistband,  seized  the  hatchet,  and  set  out.  He  told 
me  afterward  that  before  we  landed  he  had  seen  a  drop 
of  blood  on  the  bank  when  it  was  two  or  three  rods  off. 
He  proceeded  rapidly  through  the  woods  with  a  pe- 
culiar elastic  and  stealthy  tread,  looking  to  right  and  left 
on  the  ground,  and  stepping  in  the  faint  tracks  of  the 
wounded  moose,  now  and  then  pointing  in  silence  to 
a  single  drop  of  blood  on  the  handsome  shining  leaves 
of  the  Clintonia  borealis,  which  on  every  side  covered 
the  ground,  or  to  a  dry  fern-stem  freshly  broken,  all  the 
while  chewing  some  leaf  or  else  the  spruce  gum.  After 
following  the  trail  about  forty  rods  in  a  pretty  direct 
course,  stepping  over  fallen  trees  and  winding  between 
standing  ones,  he  at  length  lost  it,  for  there  were  many 
other  moose-tracks  there,  and  returning  once  more  to 
the  last  blood-stain,  traced  it  a  little  way  and  lost  it 
again,  and  gave  it  up  entirely.  He  traced  a  few  steps, 


70  CHESUNCOOK 

also,  the  tracks  of  the  calf;  but,  seeing  no  blood,  soon 
relinquished  the  search. 

I  observed,  while  he  was  tracking  the  moose,  a  cer- 
tain reticence  or  moderation  in  him.  He  did  not  com- 
municate several  observations  of  interest  which  he 
made,  as  a  white  man  would  have  done.  At  another 
time,  when  we  heard  a  slight  crackling  of  twigs  and 
he  landed  to  reconnoitre,  he  stepped  lightly  and  grace- 
fully, stealing  through  the  bushes  with  the  least  pos- 
sible noise,  in  a  way  in  which  no  white  man  does  — 
as  it  were,  finding  a  place  for  his  foot  each  time. 

We  pursued  our  voyage  up  Pine  Stream,  and  soon 
coming  to  a  part  which  was  very  shoal  and  also  rapid, 
we  took  out  the  baggage  and  proceeded  to  carry  it 
round,  while  Joe  got  up  with  the  canoe  alone.  We  were 
just  completing  our  portage  when  Joe  found  the  cow 
moose  lying  dead  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  which 
was  so  shallow  that  it  rested  on  the  bottom  with  hardly 
a  third  of  its  body  above  water.  It  had  run  about  a 
hundred  rods  and  sought  the  stream,  cutting  off  a 
slight  bend.  No  doubt  a  better  hunter  would  have 
tracked  it  to  this  spot  at  once.  My  companion  went 
in  search  of  the  calf  again.  I  took  hold  of  the  ears  of 
the  moose,  while  Joe  pushed  his  canoe  down-stream 
toward  a  favorable  shore,  and  so  we  made  out,  though 
with  some  difficulty,  its  long  nose  frequently  sticking 
in  the  bottom,  to  drag  it  into  still  shallower  water. 
It  was  a  brownish  black,  or  a  dark  iron-gray,  on  the 
back  and  sides,  but  lighter  beneath  and  in  front. 
The  extreme  length  was  eight  feet  and  two  inches. 
Another  cow  moose,  which  I  have  since  measured  in 
those  woods,  was  six  feet  from  the  tip  of  the  hoof  to 
the  shoulders,  and  eight  feet  long. 


CHESUNCOOK  71 

A  white  hunter  told  me  that  the  male  was  sometimes 
nine  feet  high  to  the  top  of  the  back,  and  weighed  a 
thousand  pounds.  Only  the  male  has  horns,  and  they 
rise  two  feet  or  more  above  the  shoulders,  which  would 
make  him  in  all,  sometimes,  eleven  feet  high ! 

The  moose  is  singularly  grotesque  and  awkward 
to  look  at.  It  reminded  me  of  the  camelopard,  high 
before  and  low  behind,  and  no  wonder,  for  like  it,  it 
is  fitted  to  browse  on  trees.  The  upper  lip  projected 
two  inches  beyond  the  lower  for  this  purpose. 

Joe  proceeded  to  skin  the  moose  with  a  pocket-knife; 
and  a  tragical  business  it  was  —  to  see  the  ghastly 
naked  red  carcass  appearing  from  within  its  seemly 
robe.  At  length  Joe  had  stripped  off  the  hide  and 
dragged  it  to  the  shore.  He  cut  off  a  large  mass  of  the 
meat  to  carry  along,  and  another,  together  with  the 
tongue  and  nose,  he  put  with  the  hide  on  the  shore  to 
lie  there  all  night,  or  till  we  returned.  I  was  surprised 
that  he  thought  of  leaving  this  meat  thus  exposed  by 
the  side  of  the  carcass,  not  fearing  that  any  creature 
would  touch  it;  but  nothing  did. 

This  stream  was  so  withdrawn,  and  the  moose- 
tracks  were  so  fresh,  that  my  companions,  still  bent  on 
hunting,  concluded  to  go  farther  up  it  and  camp,  and 
then  hunt  up  or  down  at  night.  Half  a  mile  above  this, 
as  we  paddled  along,  Joe,  hearing  a  slight  rustling 
amid  the  alders  and  seeing  something  black,  jumped 
up  and  whispered,  "  Bear ! "  but  before  the  hunter  had 
discharged  his  piece,  he  corrected  himself  to  "  Beaver! 
—  Hedgehog ! "  The  bullet  killed  a  large  hedgehog 
more  than  two  feet  and  eight  inches  long.  After  about 
a  mile  of  still  water,  we  prepared  our  camp  just  at  the 
foot  of  a  considerable  fall.  Little  chopping  was  done 


72  CHESUNCOOK 

that  night,  for  fear  of  scaring  the  moose.  We  had 
moose-meat  fried  for  supper.  It  tasted  like  tender 
beef,  with  perhaps  more  flavor. 

After  supper,  the  moon  having  risen,  we  proceeded 
to  hunt  a  mile  up  this  stream,  first  "carrying"  about 
the  falls.  We  launched  the  canoe  from  the  ledge  over 
which  the  stream  fell,  but  after  half  a  mile  of  still  water 
suitable  for  hunting,  it  became  rapid  again,  and  we  were 
compelled  to  make  our  way  along  the  shore,  while  Joe 
endeavored  to  get  up  in  the  birch  alone,  though  it  was 
very  difficult  for  him  to  pick  his  way  amid  the  rocks  in 
the  night.  We  on  the  shore  T^und  the  worst  of  walking, 
a  perfect  chaos  of  fallen  and  drifted  trees,  and  of  bushes 
projecting  far  over  the  water,  and  now  and  then  we 
made  our  way  across  the  mouth  of  a  small  tributary  on 
a  network  of  alders.  So  we  went  tumbling  on  in  the 
dark,  being  on  the  shady  side,  effectually  scaring  all 
the  moose  and  bears  that  might  be  thereabouts.  At 
length  we  came  to  a  standstill,  and  Joe  went  forward  to 
reconnoitre ;  but  he  reported  that  it  was  a  continuous 
rapid  as  far  as  he  went,  with  no  prospect  of  improve- 
ment. So  we  turned  about,  hunting  back  to  the  camp 
through  the  still  water.  I  got  sleepy  as  it  grew  late, 
and  fairly  lost  myself  in  sleep  several  times ;  but  all 
at  once  I  would  be  aroused  by  the  sound  of  Joe's 
birch  horn  in  the  midst  of  all  this  silence  calling  the 
moose,  ugh,  ugh,  oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo,  and  I  prepared 
to  hear  a  furious  moose  come  rushing  and  crashing 
through  the  forest,  and  see  him  burst  out  on  to  the 
little  strip  of  meadow  by  our  side. 

But  I  had  had  enough  of  moose-hunting.  I  had  been 
willing  to  learn  how  the  Indian  manoeuvred ;  but  one 
moose  killed  was  as  good,  if  not  as  bad,  as  a  dozen. 


CHESUNCOOK  73 

The  afternoon's  tragedy,  and  my  share  in  it,  destroyed 
the  pleasure  of  my  adventure.  I  think  that  I  could 
spend  a  year  in  the  woods,  fishing  and  hunting  just 
enough  to  sustain  myself,  with  satisfaction.  This  would 
be  next  to  living  like  a  philosopher  on  the  fruits  of  the 
earth  which  you  had  raised.  But  this  hunting  of  the 
moose  merely  for  the  satisfaction  of  killing  him,  —  not 
even  for  the  sake  of  his  hide,  —  without  making  any 
extraordinary  exertion  or  running  any  risk  yourself, 
is  too  much  like  going  out  by  night  to  some  woodside 
pasture  and  shooting  your  neighbor's  horses.  These 
are  God's  own  horses,  poor,  timid  creatures,  that  will 
run  fast  enough  as  soon  as  they  smell  you,  though  they 
are  nine  feet  high.  Joe  told  us  of  some  hunters  who 
a  year  or  two  before  had  shot  down  several  oxen 
by  night,  somewhere  in  the  Maine  woods,  mistaking 
them  for  moose.  And  so  might  any  of  the  hunters, 
and  what  is  the  difference  in  the  sport,  but  the  name  ? 
In  the  former  case,  having  killed  one  of  God's  oxen, 
you  strip  off  its  hide,  —  because  that  is  the  common 
trophy,  and,  moreover,  you  have  heard  that  it  may  be 
sold  for  moccasins,  —  cut  a  steak  from  its  haunches, 
and  leave  the  huge  carcass  to  smell  to  heaven  for  you. 
It  is  no  better  than  to  assist  at  a  slaughter-house. 

This  afternoon's  experience  suggested  to  me  how 
base  or  coarse  are  the  motives  which  commonly  carry 
men  into  the  wilderness.  The  explorers  and  lumberers 
generally  are  all  hirelings,  paid  so  much  a  day  for  their 
labor,  and  as  such  they  have  no  more  love  for  wild 
nature  than  wood-sawyers  have  for  forests.  Other 
white  men  and  Indians  who  come  here  are  for  the  most 
part  hunters,  whose  object  is  to  slay  as  many  moose 
and  other  wild  animals  as  possible.  But  could  not 


74  CHESUNCOOK 

one  spend  some  weeks  or  years  in  the  solitude  of  this 
vast  wilderness  with  other  employments  than  these 
—  employments  perfectly  sweet  and  innocent  and 
ennobling?  I  already,  and  for  weeks  afterward,  felt 
my  nature  the  coarser  for  this  part  of  my  woodland 
experience,  and  was  reminded  that  our  life  should  be 
lived  as  tenderly  and  daintily  as  one  would  pluck  a 
flower. 

With  these  thoughts,  when  we  reached  our  camping- 
ground,  I  decided  to  leave  my  companions  to  continue 
moose-hunting  down  the  stream,  while  I  prepared  the 
camp,  though  they  requested  me  not  to  chop  much 
nor  make  a  large  fire,  for  fear  I  should  scare  their 
game.  In  the  midst  of  the  damp  fir  wood,  high  on  the 
mossy  bank,  about  nine  o'clock  of  this  bright  moon- 
light night,  I  kindled  a  fire,  when  they  were  gone, 
and,  sitting  on  the  fir-twigs,  within  sound  of  the  falls, 
wrote  down  some  of  the  reflections  which  I  have 
here  expanded.  As  I  sat  there,  I  remembered  how  far 
on  every  hand  that  wilderness  stretched,  before  you 
came  to  cleared  or  cultivated  fields,  and  wondered  if 
any  bear  or  moose  was  watching  the  light  of  my  fire. 

Strange  that  so  few  ever  come  to  the  woods  to  see 
how  the  pine  lives  and  grows  and  spires,  lifting  its 
evergreen  arms  to  the  light  —  to  see  its  perfect  success. 
Most  are  content  to  behold  it  in  the  shape  of  many 
broad  boards  brought  to  market,  and  deem  that  its 
true  success.  But  the  pine  is  no  more  lumber  than 
man  is;  and  to  be  made  into  boards  and  houses  is  no 
more  its  true  and  highest  use  than  the  truest  use  of  a 
man  is  to  be  cut  down  and  made  into  manure.  Can  he 
who  has  discovered  only  some  of  the  values  of  whale- 
bone and  whale-oil  be  said  to  have  discovered  the  true 


CHESUNCOOK  75 

use  of  the  whale  ?  Can  he  who  slays  the  elephant  for 
his  ivory  be  said  to  have  "  seen  the  elephant "  ?  These 
are  petty  and  accidental  uses;  just  as  if  a  stronger 
race  were  to  kill  us  in  order  to  make  buttons  and 
flageolets  of  our  bones;  for  everything  may  serve  a 
lower  as  well  as  a  higher  use.  Every  creature  is  better 
alive  than  dead,  men  and  moose  and  pine-trees,  and 
he  who  understands  it  aright  will  rather  preserve  its 
life  than  destroy  it. 

Is  it  the  lumberman,  then,  who  is  the  friend  and 
lover  of  the  pine,  stands  nearest  to  it,  and  understands 
its  nature  best  ?  No !  no !  it  is  the  poet ;  who  does  not 
fondle  it  with  an  axe,  nor  tickle  it  with  a  saw,  nor 
stroke  it  with  a  plane,  who  knows  whether  its  heart  is 
false  without  cutting  into  it,  who  has  not  bought  the 
stumpage  of  the  township  on  which  it  stands.  All  the 
pines  shudder  and  heave  a  sigh  when  that  man  steps 
on  the  forest  floor.  I  have  been  into  the  lumber-yard, 
and  the  carpenter's  shop,  and  the  lampblack-factory, 
and  the  turpentine  clearing ;  but  when  at  length  I  saw 
the  tops  of  the  pines  waving  and  reflecting  the  light  at 
a  distance  high  over  all  the  rest  of  the  forest,  I  realized 
that  the  former  were  not  the  highest  use  of  the  pine. 
It  is  not  their  bones  or  hide  or  tallow  that  I  love  most. 
It  is  the  living  spirit  of  the  tree,  not  its  spirit  of  tur- 
pentine, with  which  I  sympathize  and  which  heals  my 
cuts. 

Ere  long  the  hunters  returned,  not  having  seen  a 
moose,  but  bringing  a  quarter  of  the  dead  one,  which, 
with  ourselves,  made  quite  a  load  for  the  canoe. 

After  breakfasting  on  moose-meat,  we  returned 
down  Pine  Stream  on  our  way  to  Chesuncook  Lake. 
Just  below  the  mouth  of  this  stream  were  the  rapids 


76  CHESUNCOOK 

called  Pine  Stream  Falls.  Joe  ran  down  alone  while 
we  walked  over  the  portage,  my  companion  collecting 
spruce  gum  for  his  friends  at  home,  and  I  looking 
for  flowers.  Near  the  lake  were  islands,  and  a  low, 
meadowy  shore  with  scattered  trees  slanted  over  the 
water.  There  was  considerable  grass ;  and  even  a  few 
cattle  were  pastured  there. 

On  entering  the  lake  we  had  a  view  of  the  moun- 
tains about  Katahdin,  like  a  cluster  of  blue  fungi  of 
rank  growth,  apparently  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles 
distant,  their  summits  concealed  by  clouds.  The  clear- 
ing to  which  we  were  bound  was  reached  by  going 
round  a  low  point.  Chesuncook  Lake  is  called  eighteen 
miles  long  and  three  wide. 

Ansell  Smith's,  the  principal  clearing  about  this 
lake,  appeared  to  be  quite  a  harbor  for  bateaux  and 
canoes,  and  there  was  a  small  scow  for  hay.  There 
were  five  other  huts  with  small  clearings  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  lake.  One  of  the  Smiths  told  me  that 
they  came  here  to  live  four  years  before. 

As  we  approached  the  log  house,  a  dozen  rods  from 
the  lake  and  considerably  elevated  above  it,  the  pro- 
jecting ends  of  the  logs  lapping  over  each  other  irreg- 
ularly several  feet  at  the  corners  gave  it  a  very  rich 
and  picturesque  look.  It  was  a  low  building,  about 
eighty  feet  long,  with  many  large  apartments.  The 
walls  were  well  clayed  between  the  logs,  which  were 
large  and  round,  except  on  the  upper  and  under  sides, 
and  as  visible  inside  as  out,  successive  bulging  cheeks 
gradually  lessening  upward.  As  for  ornamentation, 
there  were  the  lichens  and  mosses  and  fringes  of  bark. 
We  certainly  leave  the  handsomest  paint  and  clap- 
boards behind  in  the  woods,  when  we  strip  off  the 


CHESUNCOOK  77 

bark.  For  beauty,  give  me  trees  with  the  fur  on.  This 
house  was  designed  and  constructed  with  the  freedom 
of  stroke  of  a  forester's  axe,  without  other  compass  and 
square  than  Nature  uses.  Wherever  the  logs  were  cut 
off  by  a  window  or  door, —  that  is,  were  not  kept  in 
place  by  alternate  overlapping, —  they  were  held  one 
upon  another  by  very  large  pins,  driven  in  diagonally 
on  each  side  and  then  cut  off  so  as  not  to  project 
beyond  the  bulge  of  the  log,  as  if  the  logs  clasped 
each  other  in  their  arms,  These  logs  were  posts,  studs, 
boards,  clapboards,  laths,  plaster,  and  nails,  all  in 
one.  Where  the  citizen  uses  a  mere  sliver  or  board, 
the  pioneer  uses  the  whole  trunk  of  a  tree.  The  house 
had  large  stone  chimneys,  and  was  roofed  with  spruce- 
bark.  One  end  was  a  loggers' 'camp,  for  the  boarders, 
with  the  usual  fir  floor  and  log  benches.  Thus  this 
house  was  but  a  slight  departure  from  the  hollow 
tree,  which  the  bear  still  inhabits  —  being  a  hollow 
made  with  trees  piled  up,  with  a  coating  of  bark  like 
its  original. 

The  cellar  was  a  separate  building,  like  an  ice-house, 
and  it  answered  for  a  refrigerator  at  this  season,  our 
moose-meat  being  kept  there.  There  was  a  large  barn, 
part  of  whose  boards  had  been  sawed  by  a  whip-saw ; 
and  the  saw-pit,  with  its  great  pile  of  dust,  remained 
before  the  house. 

There  was  also  a  blacksmith's  shop,  where  plainly 
a  good  deal  of  work  was  done.  The  oxen  and  horses 
used  in  lumbering  operations  were  shod,  and  all  the 
iron-work  of  sleds,  etc.,  was  repaired  or  made  here. 

Smith  owned  two  miles  down  the  lake  by  half  a 
mile  in  width.  There  were  about  one  hundred  acres 
cleared.  He  cut  seventy  tons  of  hay  this  year  on  this 


78  CHESUNCOOK 

ground,  and  twenty  more  on  another  clearing,  and 
he  uses  it  all  himself  in  lumbering  operations.  There 
was  a  large  garden  full  of  roots,  —  turnips,  beets,  car- 
rots, potatoes,  etc.  They  said  that  they  were  worth  as 
much  here  as  in  New  York. 

There  was  the  usual  long-handled  axe  of  the  primi- 
tive woods  by  the  door,  and  a  large,  shaggy  dog,  whose 
nose,  report  said,  was  full  of  porcupine  quills.  I  can 
testify  that  he  looked  very  sober.  This  is  the  usual 
fortune  of  pioneer  dogs,  for  they  have  to  face  the  brunt 
of  the  battle  for  their  race.  If  he  should  invite  one  of 
his  town  friends  up  this  way,  suggesting  moose-meat 
and  unlimited  freedom,  the  latter  might  pertinently 
inquire,  "  What  is  that  sticking  in  your  nose  ?  "  When 
a  generation  or  two  have  used  up  all  the  enemies' 
darts,  their  successors  lead  a  comparatively  easy  life. 
No  doubt  our  town  dogs  still  talk,  in  a  snuffling  way, 
about  the  days  that  tried  dogs'  noses. 

How  they  got  a  cat  up  there  I  do  not  know,  for  they 
are  as  shy  as  my  aunt  about  entering  a  canoe.  I 
wondered  that  she  did  not  run  up  a  tree  on  the  way ; 
but  perhaps  she  was  bewildered  by  the  very  crowd  of 
opportunities. 

Twenty  or  thirty  lumberers,  Yankee  and  Canadian, 
were  coming  and  going,  and  from  time  to  time  an 
Indian  touched  here.  In  the  winter  there  are  some- 
times a  hundred  men  lodged  here  at  once. 

The  white  pine  tree  was  at  the  bottom  or  farther 
end  of  all  this.  It  is  a  war  against  the  pines.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  they  lived  pretty  [much  the  same  sort  of 
life  in  the  Homeric  age,  for  men  have  always  thought 
more  of  eating  than  of  fighting.  Then,  as  now,  their 
minds  ran  chiefly  on  the  "  hot  bread  and  sweet  cakes  " ; 


CHESUNCOOK  79 

and  the  fur  and  lumber  trade  is  an  old  story  to  Asia 
and  Europe.  I  doubt  if  men  ever  made  a  trade  of 
heroism. 

After  a  dinner  at  which  apple-sauce  was  the  greatest 
luxury  to  me,  but  our  moose-meat  was  oftenest  called 
for  by  the  lumberers,  I  walked  across  the  clearing 
into  the  forest,  southward,  returning  along  the  shore. 
For  my  dessert,  I  helped  myself  to  a  large  slice  of  the 
Chesuncook  woods,  and  took  a  hearty  draught  of  its 
waters  with  all  my  senses.  The  shore  was  of  coarse, 
flat,  slate  rocks,  often  in  slabs,  with  the  surf  beating  on 
it.  They  said  that  in  winter  the  snow  was  three  feet 
deep  on  a  level  here  —  that  the  ice  on  the  lake  was  two 
feet  thick  clear,  and  four  feet  including  the  snow-ice. 
We  lodged  here  Sunday  night  in  a  comfortable  bed- 
room. 

The  sight  of  one  of  these  frontier  houses  built  of 
great  logs,  whose  inhabitants  have  unflinchingly  main- 
tained their  ground  many  summers  and  winters  in  the 
wilderness,  reminds  me  of  famous  forts,  like  Ticon- 
deroga  or  Crown  Point,  which  have  sustained  mem- 
orable sieges.  They  are  especially  winter-quarters, 
and  at  this  season  this  one  had  a  partially  deserted 
look,  as  if  the  siege  were  raised  a  little,  the  snow-banks 
being  melted  from  before  it,  and  its  garrison  accord- 
ingly reduced.  I  think  of  their  daily  food  as  rations; 
a  Bible  and  a  greatcoat  are  munitions  of  war,  and  a 
single  man  seen  about  the  premises  is  a  sentinel  on 
duty. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  started  on  our  return  up 
the  Penobscot.  Our  host  allowed  us  something  for  the 
quarter  of  the  moose  which  we  had  brought,  and  which 
he  was  glad  to  get.  Two  explorers  from  Chamberlain 


80  CHESUNCOOK 

Lake  started  at  the  same  time  that  we  did.  Red  flannel 
shirts  should  be  worn  in  the  woods,  if  only  for  the  fine 
contrast  which  this  color  makes  with  the  evergreens 
and  the  water.  Thus  I  thought  when  I  saw  the  forms 
of  the  explorers  in  their  birch,  poling  up  the  rapids  be- 
fore us,  far  off  against  the  forest.  We  stopped  to  dine 
at  Ragmuff.  My  companion  wandered  up  the  stream 
to  look  for  moose  while  Joe  went  to  sleep  on  the  bank, 
and  I  improved  the  opportunity  to  botanize  and  bathe. 
Soon  after  starting  again,  while  Joe  was  gone  back 
in  the  canoe  for  the  frying-pan,  which  had  been  left, 
we  picked  a  couple  of  quarts  of  tree-cranberries  for  a 
sauce. 

I  was  surprised  by  Joe's  asking  me  how  far  it  was  to 
the  Moosehorn.  He  was  pretty  well  acquainted  with 
this  stream,  but  he  had  noticed  that  I  was  curious  about 
distances  and  had  several  maps.  He,  and  Indians  gen- 
erally with  whom  I  have  talked,  are  not  able  to  de- 
scribe dimensions  or  distances  in  our  measures  with 
any  accuracy.  He  could  tell,  perhaps,  at  what  time  we 
should  arrive,  but  not  how  far  it  was.  We  saw  a  few 
wood  ducks,  sheldrakes,  and  black  ducks.  We  also 
heard  the  note  of  one  fish  hawk,  and  soon  after  saw 
him  perched  near  the  top  of  a  dead  white  pine,  while 
a  company  of  peetweets  were  twittering  and  teeter- 
ing about  over  the  carcass  of  a  moose  on  a  low  sandy 
spit  just  beneath.  We  drove  the  fish  hawk  from  perch 
to  perch,  each  time  eliciting  a  scream  or  whistle,  for 
many  miles  before  us.  Our  course  being  up-stream, 
we  were  obliged  to  work  much  harder  than  before,  and 
had  frequent  use  for  a  pole.  Sometimes  all  three  of  us 
paddled  together,  standing  up.  About  six  miles  from 
Moosehead,  we  began  to  see  the  mountains  east  of  the 


CHESUNCOOK  81 

north  end  of  the  lake,  and  at  four  o'clock  we  reached 
the  carry. 

Three  Indians  were  encamped  here,  including  the 
St.  Francis  Indian  who  had  come  in  the  steamer  with 
us.  One  of  the  others  was  called  Sabattis.1  Joe  and 
the  St.  Francis  Indian  were  plainly  clear  Indian,  the 
other  two  apparently  mixed  Indian  and  white.  We  here 
cooked  the  tongue  of  the  moose  for  supper  —  having 
left  the  nose,  which  is  esteemed  the  choicest  part,  at 
Chesuncook,  it  being  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  prepare 
it.  We  also  stewed  our  tree-cranberries,  sweetening 
them  with  sugar.  This  sauce  was  very  grateful  to 
us  who  had  been  confined  to  hard-bread,  pork,  and 
moose-meat. 

While  we  were  getting  supper,  Joe  commenced  cur- 
ing the  moose-hide,  on  which  I  had  sat  a  good  part  of 
the  voyage,  he  having  already  cut  most  of  the  hair  off 
with  his  knife.  He  set  up  two  stout  forked  poles  on  the 
bank,  seven  or  eight  feet  high,  and  as  much  asunder, 
and  having  cut  slits  eight  or  ten  inches  long,  and  the 
same  distance  apart,  close  to  the  edge,  on  the  sides  of 
the  hide,  he  threaded  poles  through  them,  and  then, 
placing  one  of  the  poles  on  the  forked  stakes,  tied 
the  other  down  tightly  at  the  bottom.  The  two  ends 
were  tied  with  cedar-bark  to  the  upright  poles,  through 
small  holes  at  short  intervals.  The  hide,  thus  stretched 
and  slanted  a  little  to  the  north,  to  expose  its  flesh  side 
to  the  sun,  measured  eight  feet  long  by  six  high. 

We  decided  to  stop  here,  my  companion  intending 
to  hunt  down  the  stream  at  night.  The  Indians  invited 
us  to  lodge  with  them,  but  my  companion  inclined  to 
go  to  the  log-camp  on  the  carry.  This  camp  was  close 


82  CHESUNCOOK 

and  dirty,  and  had  an  ill  smell,  and  I  preferred  to  ac- 
cept the  Indians'  offer,  if  we  did  not  make  a  camp  for 
ourselves;  for  though  they  were  dirty  too,  they  were 
more  in  the  open  air  and  were  much  more  agreeable, 
and  even  refined,  company  than  the  lumberers.  The 
most  interesting  question  at  the  lumberers'  camp  was, 
which  man  could  "  handle  "  any  other  on  the  carry.  So 
we  went  to  the  Indians'  camp  or  wigwam. 

It  was  rather  windy,  and  therefore  Joe  concluded  to 
hunt  after  midnight  if  the  wind  went  down.  The  two 
mixed-bloods,  however,  went  off  up  the  river  for  moose 
at  dark.  This  Indian  camp  was  a  slight,  patched-up 
affair,  which  had  stood  there  several  weeks,  built  shed- 
fashion,  open  to  the  fire  on  the  west.  If  the  wind 
changed,  they  could  turn  it  round.  It  was  formed  by 
two  forked  stakes  and  a  cross-bar,  with  rafters  slanted 
from  this  to  the  ground.  The  covering  was  partly  an 
old  sail,  partly  birch-bark  securely  tied  on,  and  coming 
down  to  the  ground  on  the  sides.  A  large  log  was  rolled 
up  at  the  back,  and  two  or  three  moose-hides  were 
spread  on  the  ground  with  the  hair  up.  Various  articles 
of  their  wardrobe  were  tucked  around  the  sides  and 
corners,  or  under  the  roof.  They  were  smoking  moose- 
meat  in  front  of  the  camp  over  the  usual  large  fire. 
Two  stout  forked  stakes,  four  or  five  feet  apart  and 
five  feet  high,  were  driven  into  the  ground  at  each  end, 
and  then  two  poles  ten  feet  long  were  stretched  across 
over  the  fire,  and  smaller  ones  laid  on  these  a  foot  apart. 
On  the  last  hung  large,  thin  slices  of  moose-meat 
smoking  and  drying,  a  space  being  left  open  over  the 
centre  of  the  fire.  They  said  that  it  took  three  or  four 
days  to  cure  this  meat,  and  it  would  keep  a  year  or 
more.  Refuse  pieces  lay  about  on  the  ground  in  differ- 


CHESUNCOOK  83 

ent  stages  of  decay,  and  some  pieces  also  in  the  fire, 
half  buried  and  sizzling  in  the  ashes,  as  black  and  dirty 
as  an  old  shoe.  These  last  I  at  first  thought  were 
thrown  away,  but  afterwards  found  that  they  were  being 
cooked.  A  tremendous  rib-piece  was  roasting  before 
the  fire,  being  impaled  on  an  upright  stake  forced  in 
and  out  between  the  ribs.  There  was  a  moose-hide 
stretched  and  curing  on  poles,  and  quite  a  pile  of  cured 
skins  close  by.  They  had  killed  twenty-two  moose 
within  two  months,  but,  as  they  could  use  very  little 
of  the  meat,  they  left  the  carcasses  on  the  ground. 
Altogether  it  was  about  as  savage  a  sight  as  was  ever 
witnessed.  There  were  many  torches  of  birch-bark, 
shaped  like  straight  tin  horns,  lying  ready  for  use  on  a 
stump  outside. 

For  fear  of  dirt  we  spread  our  blankets  over  their 
hides  so  as  not  to  touch  them  anywhere.  The  St. 
Francis  Indian  and  Joe  alone  were  there  at  first,  and 
we  lay  on  our  backs  talking  with  them  till  midnight. 
They  were  very  sociable,  and,  when  they  did  not  talk 
with  us,  kept  up  a  steady  chatting  in  their  own  lan- 
guage. 

While  lying  there  listening  to  the  Indians,  I  amused 
myself  with  trying  to  guess  at  their  subject  by  their 
gestures,  or  some  proper  name  introduced.  It  was  a 
purely  wild  and  primitive  American  sound  and  I  could 
not  understand  a  syllable  of  it.  These  were  the  sounds 
that  issued  from  the  wigwams  of  this  country  before 
Columbus  was  born.  I  felt  that  I  stood,  or  rather  lay, 
as  near  to  the  primitive  man  of  America  that  night  as 
any  of  its  discoverers  ever  did. 

Meanwhile,  Joe  was  making  and  trying  his  horn,  to 
be  ready  for  hunting  after  midnight.  The  St.  Francis 


84  CHESUNCOOK 

Indian  also  amused  himself  with  sounding  it,  or  rather 
calling  through  it ;  for  the  sound  is  made  with  the  voice, 
and  not  by  blowing  through  the  horn.  The  latter  ap- 
peared to  be  a  speculator  in  moose-hides.  He  bought 
my  companion's  for  two  dollars  and  a  quarter,  green. 
Its  chief  use  is  for  moccasins.  One  or  two  of  these  In- 
dians wore  them.  The  St.  Francis  Indian  could  write 
his  name  very  well,  Tahmunt  Swasen. 

I  asked  Sabattis,  after  he  came  home,  if  the  moose 
never  attacked  him.  He  answered  that  you  must  not 
fire  many  times,  so  as  to  mad  him.  "I  fire  once  and 
hit  him  in  the  right  place,  and  in  the  morning  I  find 
him.  He  won't  go  far.  But  if  you  keep  firing,  you 
mad  him.  I  fired  once  five  bullets,  every  one  through 
the  heart,  and  he  did  not  mind  'em  at  all ;  it  only  made 
him  more  mad." 

I  asked  him  if  they  did  not  hunt  them  with  dogs.  He 
said  that  they  did  so  in  winter,  but  never  in  the  sum- 
mer, for  then  it  was  of  no  use ;  they  would  run  right 
off  straight  and  swiftly  a  hundred  miles. 

Another  Indian  said  that  the  moose,  once  scared, 
would  run  all  day.  A  dog  will  hang  to  their  lips  and 
be  carried  along  till  he  is  swung  against  a  tree  and 
drops  off.  They  cannot  run  on  a  "glaze,"  though  they 
can  run  in  snow  four  feet  deep ;  but  the  caribou  can 
run  on  ice.  They  commonly  find  two  or  three  moose 
together.  They  cover  themselves  with  water,  all  but 
their  noses,  to  escape  flies.  An  Indian,  whom  I  met  after 
this  at  Oldtown,  told  me  that  the  moose  were  very  easily 
tamed,  and  would  come  back  when  once  fed,  and  so 
would  deer.  The  Indians  of  this  neighborhood  are 
about  as  familiar  with  the  moose  as  we  are  with  the  ox, 
having  associated  with  them  for  so  many  generations. 


CHESUNCOOK  85 

There  were  none  of  the  small  deer  up  there ;  they  are 
more  common  about  the  settlements.  One  ran  into  the 
city  of  Bangor  two  years  before,  and  jumped  through 
a  window  of  costly  plate  glass,  and  then  into  a  mirror, 
where  it  thought  it  recognized  one  of  its  kind ,  and  out 
again,  and  so  on,  leaping  over  the  heads  of  the  crowd, 
until  it  was  captured.  This  the  inhabitants  speak  of 
as  the  deer  that  went  a-shopping. 

I  had  put  the  ears  of  our  moose,  which  were  ten 
inches  long,  to  dry  with  the  moose-meat  over  the  fire, 
wishing  to  preserve  them ;  but  Sabattis  told  me  that  I 
must  skin  and  cure  them,  else  the  hair  would  all  come 
off.  I  asked  him  how  he  got  fire,  and  he  produced  a 
little  box  of  friction  matches.  He  also  had  flints  and 
steel  and  some  punk.  "  But  suppose  you  upset,  and  all 
these  and  your  powder  get  wet."  "Then,"  said  he, 
"  we  wait  till  we  get  to  where  there  is  some  fire."  I  pro- 
duced from  my  pocket  a  little  vial  containing  matches, 
stoppled  water-tight,  and  told  him  that  though  we 
were  upset,  we  should  still  have  some  dry  matches,  at 
which  he  stared  without  saying  a  word. 

Late  at  night  the  other  two  Indians  came  home  from 
moose-hunting,  not  having  been  successful,  aroused 
the  fire,  lighted  their  pipes,  smoked  awhile,  took  some- 
thing strong  to  drink,  ate  some  moose-meat,  and,  find- 
ing what  room  they  could,  lay  down  on  the  moose- 
hides  ;  and  thus  we  passed  the  night,  two  white  men 
and  four  Indians  side  by  side. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning  the  weather  was  driz- 
zling. One  of  the  Indians  was  lying  outside,  rolled  in 
his  blanket,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire,  for  want  of 
room.  Joe  had  neglected  to  awake  my  companion  and 
he  had  done  no  hunting  that  night.  The  Indians  baked 


86  CHESUNCOOK 

a  loaf  of  flour  bread  in  a  spider  on  its  edge  before  the 
fire  for  their  breakfast ;  and  while  my  companion  was 
making  tea,  I  caught  a  dozen  sizable  fishes  in  the 
Penobscot.  After  we  had  breakfasted  by  ourselves, 
one  of  our  bedfellows,  who  had  also  breakfasted,  came 
along,  and,  being  invited,  took  a  cup  of  tea,  and  finally, 
taking  up  the  common  platter,  licked  it  clean. 

The  rain  prevented  our  continuing  any  longer  in 
the  woods ;  so,  giving  some  of  our  provisions  and  uten- 
sils to  the  Indians,  we  took  leave  of  them.  This  being 
the  steamer's  day,  I  set  out  for  the  lake  at  once. 

I  walked  over  the  carry  alone  and  waited  at  the  head 
of  the  lake.  I  noticed  at  the  landing,  when  the  steamer 
came  in,  one  of  our  bedfellows,  who  had  been  moose- 
hunting  the  night  before,  now  very  sprucely  dressed  in 
a  clean  white  shirt  and  fine  black  pants,  a  true  Indian 
dandy,  who  had  evidently  come  over  the  carry  to  show 
himself  to  any  arrivers  on  the  north  shore  of  Moose- 
head  Lake. 

Midway  the  lake  we  took  on  board  two  middle-aged 
men,  with  their  bateau,  who  had  been  exploring  for  six 
weeks  as  far  as  the  Canada  line.  I  talked  with  one  of 
them,  telling  him  that  I  had  come  all  this  distance 
partly  to  see  where  the  white  pine,  the  Eastern  stuff  of 
which  our  houses  are  built,  grew,  but  that  I  had  found 
it  a  scarce  tree;  and  I  asked  him  where  I  must  look 
for  it.  With  a  smile  he  answered  that  he  could  hardly 
tell  me.  However,  he  said  that  he  had  found  enough  to 
employ  two  teams  the  next  winter.  What  was  consid- 
ered a  "tip-top"  tree  now  was  not  looked  at  twenty 
years  ago,  when  he  first  went  into  the  business. 

One  connected  with  lumbering  operations  at  Ban- 
gor  told  me  that  the  largest  pine  belonging  to  his  firm, 


CHESUNCOOK  87 

cut  the  previous  winter,  "  scaled  "  in  the  woods  four 
thousand  five  hundred  feet,  and  was  worth  ninety 
dollars  in  the  log  at  the  boom  in  Oldtown.  They  cut 
a  road  three  and  a  half  miles  long  for  this  tree  alone. 
We  reached  Monson  that  night,  and  the  following 
day  rode  to  Bangor.  The  next  forenoon  we  went  to 
Oldtown.  A  Catholic  priest  crossed  to  the  island  in  the 
same  bateau  with  us.  The  Indian  houses  are  framed, 
mostly  of  one  story,  and  in  rows  one  behind  another 
at  the  south  end  of  the  island,  with  a  few  scattered 
ones.  I  counted  about  forty,  not  including  the  church 
and  what  my  companion  called  the  council-house. 
The  last  was  regularly  framed  and  shingled  like  the 
rest.  There  were  several  of  two  stories,  quite  neat, 
with  front  yards  inclosed ,  and  one  at  least  had  green 
blinds.  Here  and  there  were  moose-hides  stretched 
and  drying  about  them.  There  were.no  cart-paths, 
nor  tracks  of  horses,  but  footpaths;  very  little  land 
cultivated,  but  an  abundance  of  weeds,  indigenous  and 
naturalized ;  more  introduced  weeds  than  useful  vege- 
tables, as  the  Indian  is  said  to  cultivate  the  vices  rather 
than  the  virtues  of  the  white  man.  Yet  this  village 
was  cleaner  than  I  expected.  The  children  were  not 
particularly  ragged  nor  dirty.  The  little  boys  met  us 
with  bow  in  hand  and  arrow  on  string  and  cried,  "  Put 
up  a  cent."  Verily  the  Indian  has  but  a  feeble  hold 
on  his  bow  now,  but  the  curiosity  of  the  white  man 
is  insatiable,  and  from  the  first  he  has  been  eager 
to  witness  this  forest  accomplishment.  Alas  for  the 
Hunter  Race !  the  white  man  has  driven  off  their 
game,  and  substituted  a  cent  in  its  place.  I  saw  an 
Indian  woman  washing  at  the  water's  edge.  She  stood 
on  a  rock,  and  after  dipping  the  clothes  in  the  stream, 


88  CHESUNCOOK 

laid  them  on  the  rock,  and  beat  them  with  a  short 
club.  The  graveyard  was  crowded  with  graves  and 
overrun  with  weeds. 

We  called  on  Governor  Neptune,  who  lived  in  a 
little  "ten-footer,"  one  of  the  humblest  of  them  all. 
When  we  entered  the  room,  which  was  one  half  of  the 
house,  he  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  bed.  There 
was  a  clock  hanging  in  one  corner.  He  had  on  a  black 
frock  coat,  and  black  pants,  much  worn,  white  cotton 
shirt,  socks,  a  red  silk  handkerchief  about  his  neck, 
and  a  straw  hat.  His  black  hair  was  only  slightly 
grayed.  He  was  no  darker  than  many  old  white  men. 
He  told  me  that  he  was  eighty-nine ;  but  he  was  going 
moose-hunting  that  fall,  as  he  had  been  the  previous 
one.  Probably  his  companions  did  the  hunting.  We 
saw  various  squaws  dodging  about.  One  sat  on  the 
bed  by  his  side  and  helped  him  out  with  his  stories. 
They  were  remarkably  corpulent,  with  smooth,  round 
faces,  apparently  full  of  good-humor.  While  we  were 
there,  one  went  over  to  Oldtown,  returned,  and  cut 
out  a  dress,  which  she  had  bought,  on  another  bed  in 
the  room.  The  Governor  said  that  he  could  remem- 
ber when  the  moose  were  much  larger;  that  they  did 
not  use  to  be  in  the  woods,  but  came  out  of  the  water, 
as  all  deer  did.  "  Moose  was  whale  once.  Away  down 
Merrimac  way,  a  whale  came  ashore  in  a  shallow 
bay.  Sea  went  out  and  left  him,  and  he  came  up  on 
land  a  moose." 

But  we  talked  mostly  with  the  Governor's  son-in- 
law;  and  the  Governor,  being  so  old  and  deaf,  per- 
mitted himself  to  be  ignored  while  we  asked  questions 
about  him.  The  former  said  that  there  were  two  polit- 
ical parties  among  them  —  one  in  favor  of  schools  and 


CHESUNCOOK  89 

the  other  opposed  to  them.  The  first  had  just  pre- 
vailed at  the  election  and  sent  their  man  to  the  legis- 
lature. Neptune  and  Aitteon  and  he  himself  were  in 
favor  of  schools.  He  said,  "If  Indians  got  learning, 
they  would  keep  their  money." 

A  very  small  black  puppy  rushed  into  the  room  and 
made  at  the  Governor's  feet,  as  he  sat  in  his  stockings 
with  his  legs  dangling  from  the  bedside.  The  Governor 
rubbed  his  hands  and  dared  him  to  come  on,  entering 
into  the  sport  with  spirit. 

An  Indian  was  making  canoes  behind  a  house  and 
I  made  a  faithful  study  of  canoe-building.  I  thought 
that  I  should  like  to  serve  an  apprenticeship  at  that 
trade  for  one  season,  going  into  the  woods  for  bark 
with  my  "  boss,"  making  the  canoe  there,  and  returning 
in  it  at  last. 

While  the  bateau  was  coming  over  to  take  us  off, 
I  picked  up  some  fragments  of  arrowheads  on  the 
shore,  and  one  broken  stone  chisel,  which  were  greater 
novelties  to  the  Indians  than  to  me.  The  Indians  on 
the  island  appeared  to  live  quite  happily  and  to  be 
well  treated  by  the  inhabitants  of  Old  town. 

We  visited  Veazie's  mills,  just  below  the  island, 
where  were  sixteen  sets  of  saws.  On  one  side  they  were 
hauling  the  logs  up  an  inclined  plane  by  water-power ; 
on  the  other,  passing  out  the  boards,  planks,  and 
sawed  timber,  and  forming  them  into  rafts.  I  was 
surprised  to  find  a  boy  collecting  the  long  edgings  of 
boards  as  fast  as  cut  off,  and  thrusting  them  down  a 
hopper,  where  they  were  ground  up  beneath  the  mill, 
that  they  might  be  out  of  the  way ;  otherwise  they 
accumulate  in  vast  piles  by  the  side  of  the  building, 
increasing  the  danger  from  fire,  or,  floating  off,  they 


90  CHESUNCOOK 

obstruct  the  river.  This  was  not  only  a  sawmill,  but 
a  gristmill,  then.  The  inhabitants  of  Oldtown  and 
Bangor  cannot  suffer  for  want  of  kindling  stuff,  surely. 
Some  get  their  living  exclusively  by  picking  up  the 
driftwood  and  selling  it  by  the  cord  in  the  winter.  In 
one  place  I  saw  where  an  Irishman,  who  keeps  a  team 
and  a  man  for  the  purpose,  had  covered  the  shore  for 
a  long  distance  with  regular  piles,  and  I  was  told  that 
he  had  sold  twelve  hundred  dollars'  worth  in  a  year. 
Another,  who  lived  by  the  shore,  told  me  that  he  got 
all  the  material  of  his  out-buildings  and  fences  from 
the  river;  and  in  that  neighborhood  I  perceived  that 
this  refuse  wood  was  frequently  used  instead  of  sand 
to  fill  hollows  with,  being  apparently  cheaper  than  dirt. 
No  one  has  yet  described  for  me  the  difference  be- 
tween that  wild  forest  which  once  occupied  our  oldest 
townships  and  the  tame  one  which  I  find  there  to-day. 
The  civilized  man  not  only  clears  the  land  permanently 
to  a  great  extent,  and  cultivates  open  fields,  but  he 
tames  and  cultivates  to  a  certain  extent  the  forest  itself. 
By  his  mere  presence,  almost,  he  changes  the  nature  of 
the  trees  as  no  other  creature  does.  The  sun  and  air, 
and  perhaps  fire,  have  been  introduced.  It  has  lost  its 
wild,  damp,  and  shaggy  look ;  the  countless  fallen  and 
decaying  trees  are  gone,  and  consequently  that  thick 
coat  of  moss  which  lived  on  them  is  gone  too.  The 
earth  is  comparatively  bare  and  smooth  and  dry.  The 
most  primitive  places  left  with  us  are  the  swamps. 
The  surface  of  the  ground  in  the  Maine  woods  is  every- 
where spongy  and  saturated  with  moisture.  I  noticed 
that  the  plants  which  cover  the  forest  floor  there  are 
such  as  are  commonly  confined  to  swamps  with  us  — 
orchises,  creeping  snowberry,  and  others. 


CHESUNCOOK  91 

The  greater  part  of  New  Brunswick,  the  northern 
half  of  Maine,  and  adjacent  parts  of  Canada,  not  to 
mention  the  northeastern  part  of  New  York  and  other 
tracts  farther  off,  are  still  covered  with  an  almost 
unbroken  pine  forest.  But  a  good  part  of  Maine  is 
already  bare  and  commonplace.  We  seem  to  think 
that  the  earth  must  go  through  the  ordeal  of  sheep- 
pasturage  before  it  is  habitable  by  man .  Every  sizable 
pine  and  oak,  or  other  forest  tree,  cut  down  within  the 
memory  of  man !  As  if  individual  speculators  were  to 
be  allowed  to  export  the  clouds  out  of  the  sky,  or  the 
stars  out  of  the  firmament,  one  by  one.  We  shall  be 
reduced  to  gnaw  the  very  crust  of  the  earth  for  nutri- 
ment. 

At  this  rate,  we  shall  all  be  obliged  to  let  our  beards 
grow,  if  only  to  hide  the  nakedness  of  the  land  and 
make  a  sylvan  appearance.  The  farmer  sometimes 
talks  of  "brushing  up,"  as  if  bare  ground  looked 
better  than  that  which  wears  its  natural  vesture  —  as 
if  the  wild  hedges,  which  perhaps  are  more  to  his 
children  than  his  whole  farm  besides,  were  dirt.  I 
know  of  one  who  deserves  to  be  called  the  Tree-hater. 
You  would  think  that  he  had  been  warned  by  an 
oracle  that  he  would  be  killed  by  the  fall  of  a  tree,  and 
so  was  resolved  to  anticipate  them.  The  journalists 
think  that  they  cannot  say  too  much  in  favor  of  such 
"improvements"  in  husbandry;  but  these  "model 
farms  "  are  commonly  places  merely  where  somebody 
is  making  money. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  a  relief  to  get  back  to  our 
smooth,  but  still  varied  landscape.  For  a  permanent 
residence,  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  could  be  no 
comparison  between  this  and  the  wilderness,  necessary 


92  CHESUNCOOK 

as  the  latter  is  for  a  resource  and  a  background,  the 
raw  material  of  all  our  civilization.  The  wilderness 
is  simple,  almost  to  barrenness.  The  partially  culti- 
vated country  it  is  which  chiefly  has  inspired,  and  will 
continue  to  inspire,  the  strains  of  poets.  Perhaps  our 
own  woods  and  fields,  with  the  primitive  swamps 
scattered  here  and  there  in  their  midst,  but  not  pre- 
vailing over  them,  are  the  perfection  of  parks  and 
groves,  gardens,  arbors,  paths,  vistas,  and  landscapes. 
They  are  the  natural  consequence  of  what  art  and 
refinement  we  as  a  people  have  —  the  common  which 
each  village  possesses,  its  true  paradise,  in  compari- 
son with  which  all  elaborately  and  willfully  wealth- 
constructed  parks  and  gardens  are  paltry  imitations. 
The  poet's,  commonly,  is  not  a  logger's  path,  but  a 
woodman's.  The  logger  and  pioneer  have  preceded 
him,  like  John  the  Baptist;  eaten  the  wild  honey, 
it  may  be,  but  the  locusts  also;  banished  decaying 
wood  and  the  spongy  mosses  which  feed  on  it,  and 
built  hearths  and  humanized  Nature  for  him. 

But  there  are  spirits  of  a  yet  more  liberal  culture,  to 
whom  no  simplicity  is  barren.  There  are  not  only 
stately  pines,  but  fragile  flowers,  like  the  orchises, 
commonly  described  as  too  delicate  for  cultivation, 
which  derive  their  nutriment  from  the  crudest  mass 
of  peat.  These  remind  us  that,  not  only  for  strength 
but  for  beauty,  the  poet  must  from  time  to  time  travel 
the  logger's  path  and  the  Indian's  trail,  to  drink  at 
some  new  and  more  bracing  fountain  of  the  Muses, 
far  in  the  recesses  of  the  wilderness. 

The  kings  of  England  formerly  had  their  forests 
"  to  hold  the  king's  game,"  for  sport  or  food,  some- 
times destroying  villages  to  create  or  extend  them ;  and 


CHESUNCOOK  93 

I  think  that  they  were  impelled  by  a  true  instinct. 
Why  should  not  we  have  our  national  preserves,  in 
which  the  bear  and  panther,  and  some  even  of  the 
hunter  race,  may  still  exist,  and  not  be  "civilized 
off  the  face  of  the  earth,"  —  our  forests,  not  for  idle 
sport  or  food,  but  for  inspiration  and  our  own  true 
recreation?  or  shall  we  grub  them  all  up,  poaching 
on  our  own  national  domains? 


PRONOUNCING  VOCABULARY  OF  INDIAN 

NAMES 

Aboljacarmegus ;  a-b51-j5k-a-me'gus. 
Aboljacknagesic ;  a-bol-j&k-na-gesslk. 

These  two  words  are  now  usually  abbreviated  to  Abol  (aT)ol). 
Ambejijis ;  5m-b6-je'jis. 
Androscoggin ;  Sn-dro-skogln. 
Aroostook ;  a-rdbs'tdok. 
Chesuncook;  Ch&-sun'ko6k. 
Katahdin,  Ka-tah'din. 
Katepskonegan ;   Ka-tSp-sko-ne'gan ;  now  commonly  called  Debsco 

neag  (dSb-«k&-neg'). 
Kennebec ;  Kfcn-6-bSk'. 
Kineo ;  kin'e-o. 

Mattawamkeag ;  mSt-a-w&m'keg. 
Millinocket ;  mil-i-n5k'St. 
Molunkus ;  mo-lunk'us. 
Pamadumcook ;  pSm-a-dum'kook. 
Passamagamet ;  pSs-a-ma-gXm'St. 
Passamaquoddy ;  pas-a-ma-kw5d'i. 
Penobscot ;  p6-n5b'sk5t. 
Pockwockomua ;  pok-wok'6-mus. 
Quakish ;  kwa'kish. 
Sabattis ;  sa-baf!a. 
Sowadnehunk ;  sou-ad-ne-h&nk'. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S    .   A 


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